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REFLECTIONS 



ON THE 



POLITICS OF ANCIENT GREECE. 



TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 



ARNOLD H. L. HEEREN 



BY GEORGE BANCROFT. 




BOSTON : 

rCBLISIIED BY CUxMMlNGS, HILLIARD & CO. 

University Press-Hilliard & Metealf. 






DlSTIilC I- OF MAbb.VCHCSEl TS, TO ^V•IT : 

District Clerk's OJficr. 

BE U r.nc.n,K.ed that on the -ona fi;/ ^^.^-^i' ^^^^ 
t^J^ ^;Ss^^C^^;:^s^.a^,r ^:?^f '''.tie o. a bU, U. n.Ut .he.^. 
Ulcy cl^m as proi.ri.ton, in the «ords follow.ng, to nvU : 

U..lection, on the Polit.cs of Ancient Greece. T.^tulated ft.m the Geman of Arnold 

H. L. He<.rtn by Geoivje Banciolu . 

he.etof .h.C»„^e«oi:,l,e UnUed S««, eMiMca "^^^^^^^^^ 



JOHX W. DAVIb, iof Massachusetts. 



TO 

SAMUEL ATKINS ELIOT, 
THIS XnANSLATION IS INSCRIBED; 

WITH SINCERF. Arrr.CTION, 
BV HIS 

FELLOW-STUDENT AND FRIEND, 

GEORGE BANCROFT. 



THE TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 



The volume of which a translation is here ofTered to the 
public, forms in the original a portion of an extensive work, 
entitled, " Reflections on the Politics, Intercourse, and Com- 
merce of the chief Nations of Antiquity." Mr Heeren has 
accomplished his design only with respect to the nations of 
Asia and Africa. On those of Europe, he has published 
nothing further than the present series of essays, which relate 
solely to subjects connected w^ith the political institutions of 
the Greeks, and may be regarded as an independent collec- 
tion of historical sketches. 

It is on that larger work that the literary reputation of Mr 
Heeren primarily depends. With respect to the Asiatic and 
African nations, he has discussed his subject in its full extent, 
and furnishes a more distinct account of their ancient condi- 
tion, than has perhaps been given by any other writer. Ear- 
ly in life ho was led to consider the history of the world as 
influenced by colonial establishments and commerce ; and 
the results of his investigations, in a department of science to 
which he is enthusiastically attached, and to which he has 
uninterruptedly devoted the most precious years of a long life, 
are communicated in the elaborate production which we have 
named. 

In that portion which relates to Asia, afier considering the 
character of tiie continent itself, he fust treats of the Persians, 
giving a geographical and statistical account of their ancient 
empire, their form of government, tlie rights and authority of 
their kings, the administration of their ])rovinc(>s, and their 
inilitary resources. 



Tl PREFACL. 

Tiic Plia?nicians nrxt pass in review ; and a sketch is 
given of their internal condition and government, their colo- 
nies and foreign possessions, their commerce, their manufac- 
tures and inland trade. 

The country and nation of the Babylonians, and their 
commerce, form the next subjects of consideration. 

The Scythians are then delineated, and a geographical 
survey of their several tribes is naturally followed by an 
inquiry into the commerce and intercourse of the nations 
whicli inhabited the middle of Asia. 

In treating of India, it was necessary to consider with care- 
ful criticism, the knowledge which still remains to us of that 
distant country, and to collect such fragments of information 
as can be found respecting its earliest history, political con- 
stitution, and commerce. The Indians are the most remote 
Asiatic nation which had an influence on the higher culture 
of the ancient world, and with them the division which treats 
of Asia is terminated. 

To the lover of studies connected with antiquity, 
the history of the African nations possesses the deepest 
interest. Beside the physical peculiarities of this singu- 
lar pnrt of the globe, the Carthaginians present the most 
remarkable example of the wealth and power v.hich a state 
may acquire by commerce alone ; and at the same time, it 
shows most forcibly the changes to which such a state is 
exposed, when the uncertainty of its resources is increased by 
a want of the higher virtues, of valour, faith, and religion. 
In Kgypt, on the other hand, the vast antiquity of its political 
institutions, the veil of uncertainty which hangs over its early 
condition, connected with the magnificence of its monuments, 
that have, as it were, been discovered within the recollection 
of our contemporaries, all serve to render that country a most 
interesting subject of speculation and critical study. 

The volume on Africa first introduces the C'arihaginians, 
who bad the melancholy fate of becoming famous only by 
their ruin. Mr Heeren discusses the condition of their Afri- 



PREFACE. Vll 

can lerritory, their foreign provinces and colonies, their form 
of government, their revenue, their commerce by land and 
by sea, their military force, and lastly the decline and fall of 
their state. 

Before entering upon the consideration of the Egyptians, 
Mr Heeren ascends the Nile, and presents us with a geograph- 
ical sketch of the Ethiopian nations, an account of the state 
of Meroe, and of the commerce of Meroe and ^Ethiopia. 

The Egyptians are then considered. A general view of 
their country and its inhabitants, its political condition and 
its commerce, — these are the topics, under which he treats of 
that most ancient people. The whole is concluded by an 
analysis of the monuments which yet remain of Egyptian 
Thebes. 

These are the subjects which are discussed in the '^ Re- 
flections of Heeren," a work which deservedly holds a high 
rank among the best historical productions of our age. The 
volume on Greece is more nearly connected with our asso- 
ciations and studies, and may serve as a specimen of the man- 
ner in which the whole is executed. Were a version of the 
other parts to be published^ it would form three octavo volumes 
somewhat larger than the present. Mr Heeren's style is 
uniformly clear, and there are fev/ of his countrymen, whose 
works so readily admit of being translated. We may add, 
there are few so uniformly distinguished for sound sense and 
a rational and liberal method of studying the monuments of 
antiquity. He is entirely free from any undue fondness for 
philosophical speculations, but recommends himself by his 
perspicuity, moderation, and flowing style. 
< The business of translating is but an humble one ; and 
yet it may be the surest method of increasing the number of 
good books which are in the hands of our countrymen. None 
can be offered more directly interesting to them, than those 
which relate to political institutions. Holding as we do our 
destinies and our national character and prosperity in our own 
hands, it becomes us to contemplate the revolutions of gov- 



vni 



PREFACE. 



ernments ; to study human nature, as exhibited in its grandest 
features in the changes of nations ; to consider not only the 
pohtics of the present age, but gaining some firm ground, such 
as history points out, to observe with careful attention the 
wrecks of other institutions and other times. The present 
volume may perhaps do something to call public attention to 
the merits and true character of the ancient Greeks. The 
admirers of Grecian eloquence will be pleased to find in one of 
the chapters, an outline of the political career of Demosthenes. 
His reputation is there vindicated from the calumnies that 
have so long been heaped upon one of the noblest, most per- 
severing, most disinterested advocates of the cause of suiSer- 
ing liberty. 

The Translator hopes the work will prove acceptable to 
scholars and those who have leisure for the study of history ; 
and that it will be received by them as an earnest of his desire 
to do something, however little it may be, for the advance- 
ment of learning in our common country. 

Northampton^ Massachusetts, 
Dec. ISth, 1S23. 



ERRATA. 



Page 47, three lines from top, for its read their 

77, five " " «' .strides " the dtrid(C 

" 133, ten lines from bottom, for poc/r^/ " the plastic art 
" 1S3, three lines from top, for co)i«/i7u/jo;i5 " const ilutionsf 
" " six " " " adopted " adopted? 

" 302, ten " «' " claims <« chains 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



General Preliminary Remarks - - - 1 

CHAPTER FIRST. 

Geographical View of Greece - - - 15 

CHAPTER SECOND. 

Earliest Condition of the Nation and its Branches - 42 

CHAPTER THIRD. 
Original Sources of the Cuhure of the Greeks - 49 

CHAPTER FOURTH. 
The Heroic Age. The Trojan War - - 82 

CHAPTER FIFTH. 

The Period following the Heroic Age. Emigrations. 
Origin of RepubHcan Forms of Government, and 
their Character - - - - 99 

CHAPTER SIXTH. 

Homer. The Epic Poets . . - 107 

CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

Means of preserving the National Character - 125 

CHAPTER EIGHTH. 
The Persian Wars and their Consequences - 143 



X CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER NINTH. 
Constitutions of the Grecian States - - - 159 

CHAPTER TENTH. 

The Political Economy of the Greeks - • 186 

CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 
The Judicial Institutions - - - - 219 

CHAPTER TWELFTH. 
The Army and Navy - - - - 230 

CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 
Statesmen and Orators - - - . 257 

CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

The Sciences in connexion with the State - 283 

CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 
Poetry and the Arts in connexion with the State - 319 

CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 
Causes of the Fall of Greece - - - 344 



GENERAL PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 



To the student of the history of man, there is 
hardly a phenomenon more important in itself, or 
more difficult of explanation, than the superiority of 
Europe over the other parts of our earth. With 
whatever justice other lands and nations may be esti- 
mated, it cannot be denied that the noblest and best of 
every thing, which man has produced, sprung up, or 
at least ripened, on European soil. In the multitude, 
•variety, and beauty of their natural productions, Asia 
and Africa far surpass Europe ; but in every thing 
which is the work of man, the nations of Europe stand 
far above those of the other continents. It was among 
them, that, by making marriage the union of but two 
individuals, domestic society obtained that form, with- 
out which so many parts of our nature could never 
have been ennobled ; and if slavery was established 
among them^ they alone abolished it, because they 
recognised its injustice. It was chiefly and almost 
exclusively among them that such constitutions were 
framed, as are suited to nations who have become con- 
scious of their rights. If Asia, during all the changes 
in its extensive empires, does but show the continued 
J 



id PRELIMINAllY REMARKS. 

reproduction of despotism, it was on' European soil 
that the germ of political freedom unfolded itself, and 
under the most various forms, in so many parts of 
the same, bore the noblest fruits : uhich again were 
transplanted from thence to other parts of the world. 
The simplest inventions of the mechanic arts may 
perhaps belong in part to the Kast ; but how have 
they all been perfected by Europeans. What a re- 
moval from the loom of the Hindoo, to those weaving 
machines which are carried by steam ; from the sun- 
dial to the chronometer, from the Chinese bark to the 
British man-of-war. And if we direct our attention 
to those nobler arts, which, as it were, raise human 
nature above itself, — what a distance between the 
Jupiter of Phidias and an Indian idol ; between the 
transfiguration of Raphael and the works of a Chinese 
painter. The East had its annalists, but never pro- 
duced a Tacitus, or a Gibbon ; it had its potts, but 
never advanced to criticism ; it had its sages, who not 
unfrequently produced a powerful efTect on their na- 
tions by means of their doctrines ; but still a Plato 
or a Kant could never ripen on the banks of the 
Ganges and the Hoangho. 

Nor can we less admire that political superiority, 
which the nations of this small region, just emerging 
from the savage life, immediately established over the 
extensive countries of the large continents. The East 
has seen powerful conquerors ; but it was only in 
Europe that generals appeared, who invented a 
science of war really worthy of the name. Hardly 
had a kingdom in Macedonia of limited extent out- 
grown its childhood, before Macedonians ruled on the 
Indus as on the Nile. The imperial city was the 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 3 

heiress of the imperial nation ; Asia and Africa pros- 
trated themselves before the Caesars. Even in the 
centuries of the middle age, when the intellectual 
superiority of the Europeans seemed to have sunk, 
the nations of the East attempted to subjugate them 
in vain. The Mongolians advanced into Silesia ; 
nothing but the wastes of Russia remained for a time 
in their power; the Arabs desired to overrun the 
West ; the sword of Charles Martel compelled them to 
rest contented with a part of Spain ; and the chivalrous 
Frank, under the banner of the cross, soon bade them 
defiance in their own home. And how did the fame 
of the Europeans extend its beams over the earth, 
when, through Columbus and Vasco de Gama, the 
morning of a fairer day began to dawn for them. The 
new world at once became their prey ; more than a 
third part of Asia submitted to the Russian sceptre ; 
merchants on the Thames and the Zuyder See seized 
on the government of India ; and if the Turks have 
thus far been successful in preserving the country 
which they have robbed from Europe, will it remain 
to them forever ? will it remain to them long? Those 
conquests may have been made with severity and acts 
of cruelty ; but the Europeans became not only the 
tyrants, they also became the instructers of the world. 
The civilization of mankind seems to be more and 
more closely connected with their progress ; and if, in 
these times of general revolution, any consoling pros- 
pect for the future is opened, is it not the triumph of 
European culture in other than the countries of 
Europe? 

From whence proceeds this superiority, this univer- 
sal sovereignty of so small a region as Europe ? Here 



'4 PRELIMINAUY REMARKS. 

an important truth presents itself at once. Not un- 
disciplined strength, not the mere physical force of the 
collective body, — it was intelligence which produced 
it ; and if the skill of the Europeans in the art of war 
laid the foundations of their sovereignty, it was their 
superior political science, which maintained it for 
them. But the question which employs us, remains 
still unanswered ; for we desire to know the causes 
of this intellectual superiority of the Europeans ; 
and why the faculties of human nature were unfold- 
ed among them so much more extensively, and so 
much more beautifully? 

To such a question no perfectly satisfactory answer 
can be given. The phenomenon is in itself much too 
rich, much too great for that. It will be readily con- 
ceded, that it could only be the consequence of many 
cooperating causes ; some of these causes can be sep- 
arately enumerated ; and therefore may afford some 
explanation of it. But to enumerate them all, to 
show this influence singly and when united, — this 
could only be done by a master spirit, to whom it 
should be granted, from a higher point of view than 
any to which a mortal can attain, to contemplate the 
whole web of the history of our race, the course and 
the tangles of the various threads. 

And here one important circumstance excites atten- 
tion; and yet a circumstance, of which the cautious in- 
quirer hardly ventures to fix the value. Whilst we see 
the surface of the other continciits covered with nations 
of different, and almost always of dark colour, (and, in 
so far as this determines the race, of different races) ; 
the inhabitants of Europe belong only to one race. It 
has not now, and it never had, any other native iuhabi- 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. O 

tants than the white nations.* Is the white man distin- 
guished by greater natural talents? Has he by means 
of them an advantage over his coloured brethren? 
This is a question, which physiology cannot answer, 
and to which history must reply with timidity. Who 
will directly deny, that the difference of organi- 
zation, which we so variously observe to attend on 
the difference in colour, can have an influence on the 
more rapid or more tardy unfolding of the mind ? 
But who can, on the other hand, demonstrate this in- 
fluence, without first raising that secret veil, which 
conceals from us the reciprocal connexion between 
body and mind? And yet we must esteem it proba- 
ble ; and how much does this probability increase in 
strength, if we make inquiries of history ? The great 
superiority, w^hich the white nations in all ages and 
countries have possessed, is a matter of fact, which 
cannot be denied. It may be said, this was the con- 
sequence of external circumstances, which favoured 
them more. But has this always been so? And why 
has it been so ? And further, why did those darker 
nations, which rose above the savage state, attain 
only to a degree of culture of their own ; a degree, 
which was passed neither by the Egyptian nor by the 
Mongolian, neither by the Chinese nor the Hindoo ? 
And amono; them, why did the black remain behind 
the brown and the yellow ? If these observations can- 
not but make us inclined to attribute a greater or 
smaller capacity to the several branches of our race, 
they do not on that account prove an absolute want of 
capacity in our darker fellow-men, nor must they be 

* The Gipsies are foreigners ; and it may scera doubtful how far the 
Laplanders are to be reckoned io the white or yellow race. 



5 PUELIMINARY REMAUKS. 

urged as the sole cause. Thus much only is intend- 
ed, that experience thus far seems to prove, that a 
greater facility for developing the powers of mind be- 
longs to the nations of a clear colour ; but we will 
welcome the age, which shall contradict experience in 
this point, and which shall exhibit to us cultivated 
nations of negroes. 

But however high or low this natural precedency 
of the Europeans may be estimated, no one can fail 
of observing, that the physical qualities of this con- 
tinent offer peculiar advantages, which may serve not 
a little to explain the abovementioned phenomenon'. 

Europe belongs almost entirely to the northern 
temperate zone. Its most important lands lie between 
the fortieth and sixtieth degree of north latitude. 
Farther to the north nature gradually dies. Thus our 
continent has in no part the luxuriant fruitfulness of 
tropic regions ; but also no such ungrateful climate, 
as to make the care for the mere preservation of life 
swallow up the whole strength of its inhabitants. 
Europe, except where local causes put obstacles in 
the way, is throughout susceptible of agriculture. It 
invites men to till it, or rather it in some measure 
compels them ; for it is as little adapted to the chase 
as to pasturing. Although its inhabitants have at 
various periods changed their places of abnde, they 
were never wandering tribes. They emigrated to con- 
quer ; to make other establishments where booty or 
superior fertility attracted them. No European na- 
tion ever lived in tents ; the well wooded plains 
offered in abundance the materials for constructing 
those huts, which the inclement skies required. Its soil 
and climate were peculiarly fitted to accustom men to 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 7 

that regular industry, which is the source of all pros- 
perity. If Europe could boast of but few distinguished 
productions ; perhaps of no one which was exclusively 
its own ; and if it was necessary to transplant its choicest 
products from distant regions, this produced again the 
necessity of cherishing or nursing them. Thus art 
became united to nature, and this union is the mother 
of the gradual improvement of our race. Without 
exertion the circle of human ideas can never be en- 
larged ; but at the same time the mere preservation 
of man must not lay claim to the exercise of all his 
faculties. A degree of fruitfulness, sufficient to re- 
ward the pains of culture, is spread almost equally 
over Europe ; there are no vast tracts of perfect bar- 
renness ; no deserts like those of Arabia and Africa ; 
and the extensive level lands, which are besides richly 
supplied with water, begin only in the eastern districts. 

Mountains of a moderate elevation usually interrupt 
the plains ; in every direction there is an agreeable 
interchange of hill and valley ; and if nature does not 
exhibit the luxurious pomp of the torrid zone, her 
awakening in spring compensates for this by charms 
which do not belong to the splendid uniformity of 
tropic climes. 

It is true, that a similar climate is shared by a large 
portion of middle Asia ; and it may be asked, why, in- 
stead of the same, opposite appearances should be 
there exhibited, where the shepherd nations of Tar- 
tary and Mongolia seem to have made no advance- 
ment, so long as they remained in their own countries 
without stationary settlements ? But by the charac- 
ter of its soil, by the succession of mountains and 
valleys, the number of its navigable rivers, and above 



8 PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 

all, by its coasts on the Mediterranean, Europe dis- 
tinguishes itself from those regions in so remarkable a 
manner, that this similar temperature of the air, 
(which is moreover not perfectly equal under equal 
degrees of latitude, since Asia is colder,) can afford 
no foundation for a comparison. 

But can we derive from this physical difference, 
those moral advantages, which were produced by 
the better regulation of domestic society ? With this 
begins in some measure the history of the first culture 
of our continent ; tradition has not forgotten to inform 
us, that Cecrops, when he founded his colony among 
the savage inhabitants of Attica, instituted at the 
same time regular marriages ; and who has not learned 
of Tacitus the holy custom of our German ancestors ? 
Is it merely the character of the climate, which caus- 
es both sexes to ripen more gradually, and at the same 
time more nearly simultaneously, and a cooler blood 
to flow in the veins of man ; or is a more delicate 
sentiment impressed upon the European, a higher 
moral nobility, which determines the relation of the 
two sexes ? Be this as it may, who does not perceive 
the decisive importance of the fact? Does not the 
wall of division which separates the inhabitants of the 
East from those of the West, repose chiefly on this 
basis ? And can it be doubted, that this better 
domestic institution was essential to the progress of 
our political institutions ? For we make with con- 
fidence the remark ; no nation, where polygamy was 
established has ever obtained a free and well ordered 
constitution. 

Whether these causes alone, or whether others be- 
side them (for who will deny that there may have been 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 9 

others?) procured for the Europeans their superiority ; 
thus much is certain, that all Europe may now boast 
of this superiority. If the nations of the South pre- 
ceded those of the North ; if these were still wander- 
ing in their forests when those had already obtained 
their ripeness, — they finally made up for their dila- 
toriness. Their time also came ; the time when they 
could look down on their southern brethren with a 
just consciousness of superiority. This leads us to the 
important diiferences, which are peculiar to the North 
and the South of this continent. 

A chain of mountains, which, though many arms 
extend to the North and South, runs in its chief direc- 
tion from West to East, the chain of the Alps, con- 
nected in the west with the Pyrenees by the mountains 
of Sevennes, extending to the Carpathian and the 
Balkan towards the east as far as the shores of the 
Black sea, divides this continent into two very unequal 
parts, the Southern and the Northern. It separates 
the three peninsulas which run to the south, those 
of the Pyrenees, Italy, and Greece, together with the 
southern coast of France and Germany, from the great 
content of Europe, which extends to the north beyond 
the polar circle. This last, which is by far the 
larger half, contains almost all the chief streams of 
this continent ; the Ebro, the Rhone, and the Po, 
are alone important for navigation, of all that empty 
themselves into the Mediterranean sea. No other 
chain of mountains of our earth has had such an 
influence on the history of our race, as the chain of 
the Alps. During a long succession of ages, it parted, 
as it were, two worlds from each other ; the fairest 
buds of civilization had already opened under the 
2 



10 PRELIMINARY REMARK^. 

Grecian and Hesperian skies, whilst scattered tribes 
of barbarians were yet wandering in the forests of 
the North. How different would have been the whole 
history of Europe, had the wall of the Alps, instead 
of being near the Mediterranean, been removed to 
the shores of the North sea? This boundary, it is 
true, seems of less moment in our time ; when the 
enterprising spirit of the European has built a road 
across tiie Alps, just as it has found a path over the 
ocean ; but it was of decisive importance for the age 
of which we are speaking, for antiquity. The North 
and South were then physically, morally, and politi- 
cally divided ; that chain long remained the protect- 
ing bulwark of the one against the other ; and if 
Caesar, finally breaking over these boundaries, re- 
moved in some measure the political landmarks, the 
distinction still continues apparent between the Roman 
part of Europe, and that which never yielded to the 
Romans. 

It is therefore only the southern part of our hemis- 
phere, which can employ us in our present inquiries. 
Its limited extent, which seemed to afford no room 
for powerful nations, was amply compensated by its 
climate and situation. What traveller from the North 
ever descended the southern side of the Alps without 
being excited by the view of the novel scenery 
that surrounded him ? The more beautiful blue of 
the Italian and Grecian sky, the milder air, the more 
graceful forma of the mountains, the pomp of the 
rocky shores and the islands, the dark tints of 
the forests glittering with golden fruits — do these 
exist merely in the songs of the poets? Although 
the tropic climes are still distant^ a foretaste of them 



PRELIMINARY REMARKS. 11 

is enjoyed even here. The aloe grows wild in Lower 
Italy ; the sugar-cane thrives in Sicily ; from the 
top of ^tna, the eye can discern the rocks of Malta, 
where the fruit of the palm-tree ripens, and in the 
azure distance, even the coasts of neighbouring 
Africa.* Here nature never partakes of the uni- 
formity, which so long repressed the spirit of the 
natives that inhabited the forests and plains of 
the North. In all these countries there is a 
constant interchange of moderately elevated moun- 
tains with pleasant valleys and level lands, over 
which Pomona has scattered her choicest blessings. 
The limited extent of the countries allows no ' large 
navigable rivers ; but what an indemnification for 
this is found in its seacoasts, so extensive, and so rich 
in bays. The Mediterranean sea belongs to the 
South of Europe ; and it was by means of that sea, 
that the nations of the West first assumed the rank, 
which they did. Let an extensive heath occupy its 
place, and like the nomades of middle Asia, we should 
yet be wandering Tartars and Mongolians. 

Of the nations of the South, only three can engage 
our attention ; the Greeks, Macedonians, and Romans, 
the masters of Italy and then of the world. We have 
named them in the order in which history presents 
them to us as distinguished nations, although distin- 
guished in different ways. We shall follow the same 
order in treating of them. ^ 

* Reise durch Sicilien. B. 11. p. 338— 440 



GREECE. 



GREECE. 



CHAPTER I. 

GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 

Were any one, who is entirely unacquainted with 
the history of the Greeks, to examine the map with 
attention, he could hardly remain in doubt that their 
country, in point of situation, is favoured by nature 
beyond any other in Europe. It is the most southern 
of that continent. The promontory of Taenarium, in 
which it terminates, lies under almost the same degree 
of latitude with the celebrated rock of Calpe ; and 
its northern boundary falls somewhat to the south of 
Madrid. In this manner it extends from that prom- 
ontory to Olympus and the Cambunian mountains, 
which divide it from Macedonia, about two hundred 
and twenty-five miles from south to north.* Its east- 
ern point is the promontory of Sunium in Attica ; 
from thence its greatest breadth, to the promontory of 
Leucas in the west, is about one hundred and sixty 
miles. The greatness of the nation and the variety 
of its achievements easily lead to the error of believing 
the country an extensive one. But even if we add 
all the islands, its square contents are a third less than 

♦ From 36^ to 40 degrees north latitude. 



16 CHAPTER FIRST. 

those of Portugal. But what advantages of situation 
does it not possess over the Iberian peninsula. If this, 
according to the ideas of the ancients, was the west- 
ern extremity of the world, as the distant Serica was 
the eastern, Greece was as it were in the centre of 
the most cultivated countries of three continents. A 
short passage by sea divided it from Italy ; and the 
voyage to Egypt, Asia Minor, and Phoenicia, though 
somewhat longer, seemed hardly more dangerous. 

Nature herself, in this land of such moderate ex- 
tent, established the geographical divisions, by sepa- 
rating the peninsula of the Peloponnesus from the 
main land ; and by dividing the latter into nearly equal 
parts, northern and southern, by the chain of (Eta, 
which traverses it obliquely. In every direction hills 
are interchanged with valleys and fruitful plains ; and 
if in its narrow compass no large rivers are found (the 
Peneus and Achelous are the only considerable ones), 
its extensive coasts, abundantly provided with bays, 
landing-places, and natural harbours, afford more than 
an equivalent. 

The peninsula of Pelops, so called in honour of 
Pelops, who, according to the tradition, introduced, 
not war, but the gifts of peace from Ada Minor, is 
about equal in extent to Sicily, and forms the south- 
ernmost district. It consists in its centre of a high 
ridge of hills, which sends out several branches, and 
some as far as the sea ; but between these branches there 
are fruitful plains well watered by an abundance of 
stroams, wliich pour from the mountains in every di- 
rection. This high inland district, which no where 
borders on the sea, is the far-famed Arcadia of poet- 
ical tradition. Its highest peak, the mountain Cyllene, 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 17 

rises, according to Strabo, from fifteen to twenty 
stadia above the sea.* Nature has destined this 
country for herdsmen. '^ The pastures and meadows 
in summer are always green and unscorched ; for the 
shade and moisture preserve them. The country has 
an appearance similar to that of Switzerland, and the 
Arcadians in some measure resemble the inhabitants of 
the Alps. They possessed a love of freedom and a 
love of money ; for wherever there was money, you 
might see Arcadian hirelings. But it is chiefly the 
western part of Arcadia (where Pan invented the 
shepherd's flute), which deserves the name of a pas- 
toral country. Innumerable brooks, one more delight- 
ful than the other, sometimes rushing impetuously and 
sometimes gently murmuring, pour themselves down 
the mountains. Vegetation is rich and magnificent ; 
every where freshness and coolness are found. One 
flock of sheep here succeeds another, till the banks of 
the wild Taygetus are approached ; where numerous 
herds of goats are seen also.'^f The inhabitants of 
Arcadia, devoted to the pastoral life, preferred there- 
fore for a long time to dwell in the open country 
rather than in cities ; and when some of these, par- 
ticularly Tegea and Mantinea, became considerable, 
the contests between them destroyed the peace and 
liberties of the people. The shepherd life among the 
Greeks, although much ornamented by the poets, be- 
trays its origin in this ; that it arose among a people, 
who did not wander like the Nomades, but were iiy 
possession of stationary dwellings. « 

* Strabo, 1. viii. p. 267. ed. Casaub. The indefinite nature of the account 
shows how uncertain it is. 

tBartlioldy. BruchstUcke zu nahern Kenntniss Griechenlands, p. 239-241 

3 



IB CHAPTER FIRST. 

Round Arcadia seven districts were situated, almost 
all of which were well watered by streams, that de- 
scended from its highlands. In the south lay the land 
of heroes, Laconia, rough and mountainous, but thick- 
ly settled ; so that it is said to have contained nearly 
a hundred towns or villages.* It was w^atered by 
the Euro'tas, the clearest and purest of all the Grecian 
rivers,! which had its rise in Arcadia, and was in- 
creased by several smaller streams. Sparta was built 
upon its banks, the mistress of the country, without 
walls, without gates ; defended only by its citizens. 
It was one of the larger cities of Greece ; but, not- 
withstanding the market-place, the theatre, and the 
various temples which Pausanias enumerates,^ it was 
not one of the most splendid. The monuments of 
fallen heroes^ constituted the principal ornament of 
the banks of the Eurotas, which were then and still 
are covered with the laurel. || But all these monu- 
ments have perished ; there is a doubt even as to the 
spot where ancient Sparta was situated. It was for- 
merly thought to be the modern Misitra ; this opinion 
has been given up ; a more recent traveller believes, 
that about six miles from thence he has discovered, in 
the ruins of Mogula, the traces of the ancient theatre 
and some of the temples. U At the distance of four 
miles lay Amyclse, celebrated for the oracle of Apollo, 

♦ Manso has enumerated sixty-seven : Sparta, i. 2. p. 15. 

t Bartlioldy. Biuclistv.cke, kc. p. 228. 

\ Paiisan. iil. j). 240. ed. Kulin. 
% § See the h>ng list of them in Pausanias, p. 240, 243, &c. 
f II Fon(|ueville. Voyage i. p. 189. 

11 See Chrttenuhriand. Itineraire de Paris i\ Jerusalem, i. p. 26. This travel- 
ler was but one hour in going from Misitra to Mogula, by way of Palaiochoros, 
but it was done on horseback and in a gallop. Those discoveries belong to 
M. Chateaubriand ; he remarks, however, that others before him had suppos- 
ed Palaiochoros to be the site of ancient Sparta. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 19 

but not a trace of the sanctuary is now visible ; and 
a road of twelve miles led from Sparta to Gythium, 
its harbour in that period of its history, where, mis- 
taking its true policy, it built a fleet. On the west 
and north, Laconia was surrounded by the Taygetus, 
which separated it from the fruitful plains of Messe- 
nia. This country was soon overpowered by Sparta,^ 
which, having thus doubled its territory, easily be- 
came the largest of all the Grecian cities. But though 
it remained for a long time in the quiet possession of 
Messenia, the day of retribution came, when Epami- 
nondas, its restorer, crushed the power of humbled 
Sparta. 

A neck of land, called Argolis, from its capital city 
Argos, extends in a southerly direction from Arcadia 
fifty-four miles into the sea, where it terminates in the 
promontory of Scilljcum. Many and important asso- 
ciations of the heroic age are connected with this 
country. Here was Tiryns, from whence Hercules 
departed at the commencement of his labours ; here 
was MycenJE, the country of Agamemnon, the most 
powerful and most unhappy of kings ; here was 
Nemea, celebrated for its games instituted in honour 
of Neptune. But the glory of its early history does 
not seem to have animated Argos. No Themistocles, 
no Agesilaus was ever counted among its citizens ; and, 
though it possessed a territory of no inconsiderable ex- 
tent, it never assumed a rank among the first of the 
Grecian states, but was rather the passive object of 
foreign policy. 

In the west of the Peloponnesus lay Elis, the holy 
land. Its length from south to north, if the small 

♦ In the second Messenian war, which ended 668 years before Christ. 



20 CHAPTER PIRST. 

southern district of Triphylia be reckoned, amounted 
to fifty-four miles ; its breadth in the broadest part 
was not more than half as much. Several rivers, 
which had their rise in the Arcadian mountains, water- 
ed its fruitful plains. Among them the Alpheus was 
the largest and the most famous ; the Olympic games 
were celebrated on its banks. Its fountains were not 
far distant from those of the Eurotas ; and as the lat- 
ter, taking a southerly direction, flowed through the 
land of war, the former in a westerly one passed 
through the land of peace. For here, in the country 
sacred to Jove, where the nation of the Hellenes assem- 
bled in festive pomp and saluted each other as one 
people, no bloody feuds were suffered t?o profane the 
soil. Armies were indeed permitted to pass through 
the consecrated land ; but they were first deprived of 
their arms, which they did not again receive till they 
left it."^ This is the glory of the Greeks, that they 
honoured the nobler feelings of humanity, where 
other nations were unmindful of them. They flour- 
ished so long as they possessed self-government 
enough to do this ; they fell when sacred things ceas- 
ed to be sacred. 

The country of Elis embraced three divisions. The 
woody Triphylia was in the south, and contained that 
Pylus, which, according to the judgment of Strabo, 
could lay a better claim than either of the other two 
towns of the same name, to have been the country of 
Nestor.f The northern division was Elis, a plain en- 
closed by the rough mountains Phololi and Scollis, 

♦ Strnl)t), viii. p. '247. 

t Strabo, viil. p. 242. The t\TO other ton ns were situated, one in north- 
ern Elis, the other ia Mcssenia. 



II 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OP GREECE. 21 

both, branches of the Arcadian Erymanthiis, and 
watered by the Selleis and the Elian Peneus, on the 
banks of which the city was built that gave a name to 
the whole region, over which it also exercised supreme 
authority ; for the district of the Elians, embracing 
both Pisatis and Triphylia, extended to the borders 
of Messenia.* The middle territory, Pisatis, so call- 
ed from the city Pisa, was the most important of all, 
for it contained Olympia. Two roads from Elis led 
thither, one near the sea through the plain, another 
through the mountains ; the distance was from thirty 
to thirty-five miles.f The name Olympia designated 
the country round the city Pisaf (which even in Stra- 
bo's time was no longer in existence), where every five 
years those games were celebrated, which the Elians 
established after the subjugation of the Pisans, and at 
which they presided. If this privilege gave to them, as 
it were, all their importance in the eyes of the Greeks ; 
if their country thus became the common centre ; if it 
was the first in Greece with respect to works of art 
and perhaps to wealth ; if their safety, their prosperi- 
ty, their fame, and in some measure their existence as 
an independent state, were connected with the temple 
of Jupiter Olympius and its festivals ; — need we be 
astonished, if no sacrifice seemed to them too great, 
by which the glory of Olympia was to be increased ? 
Here on the banks of the Alpheus stood the sacred 
grove, called Altis, of olive and plane trees, surrounded 

♦ Strabo, viii. p. 247, relates the manner in which it came to be extended 
thus far by the assistance of the Spartans in the Messenian war. 

t According to Strabo, 1. c. 300 stadia. 

X Barthelemy is not strictly accurate, when he calls (iv. p. 207) Pisa and 
Olympia one city. Pisa was but six stadia (not quite a mile) from the temple ; 
Schol. Pind. ad 01. x. 55. I have never met with any mention of a city 
Olympia. 



22 CHAPTER FIRST. 

by an enclosure ; a sanctuary of the arts, such as the 
world has never since beheld. For what are all our 
cabinets and museums, compared with this one spot? 
Its centre was occupied by the national temple of the 
Hellenes, the temple of Olympian Jove,* in which was 
the colossal statue of that god, the masterpiece of 
Phidias. No other work of art in antiquity was so 
generally acknowledged to have been the first, even 
whilst all other inventions of Grecian genius were still 
uninjured; and need we hesitate to regard it as the 
first of all the works of art, of which we have any 
knowledge ? Besides this temple, the grove contained 
those of Juno and Lucina, the theatre and the pryta- 
neum ; in front of it, or perhaps within its precints,f 
was the stadium together with the race-ground, or hip- 
podromus. The whole forest was filled with monu- 
ments and statues, erected in honour of gods, heroes, 
and conquerors. Pausanias mentions more than two 
hundred and thirty statues ; of Jupiter alone he 
describes twenty three,J and these were, for the most 
part, works of the first artists ; for how could any 

♦ The temple of Jupiter Olympius, built by the Elians in the age o( 
Pericles, had nearly the same dimensions as the Parthenon at Athens ; 230 
feel in length, 95 in breadth, and 6S in height. The colossal statue of Jupi- 
ter, represented as seated, nearly touched the roof of the temple, as Strabo 
relates ; and is said to have been 60 feet high. Compare : Volkel Qber den 
grossen Tempel und die Statue des Jupiters in Olympia, 1794. 

t According to Strabo, in the Altis : Barth6leray says, in front of it. We 
are still much in the dark respecting the situation of ancient Olympia. 
What Chandler says is unimportant. The only modern traveller, who has made 
ac-umlc investigations, is M. Fauvel. But I am unacquainted with his com- 
mnnicKtion to the National Inslitule, Pricis de ses royoirts dans le continent 
dt la r,r^fc, only from the short notice contained in Millin, Magazin Enci/- 
clop. 18(»'2, T. II. He found, it is there said, not only the remains of the 
temple of Jupiter, by also of the Hijjpodr )mus. 

\ Pausanias, v. p. 434, kc has enumerated and described that number* 
Among them there was a Colossus of bronze, 27 feet high. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 23 

poor production gain admittance, where even indiffe- 
rent ones were despised ? Pliny estimates the whole 
number of these statues in his time, at three thou- 
sand.* To this must be added the treasuries 
(^r}(ruu^oi^^ which the piety or the vanity of so many 
cities, enumerated by Pausaniasf , had established by 
their votive presents. It was with a just pride, that 
the Grecian departed from Olympia. He could say 
to himself with truth, that he had seen the noblest 
objects on earth, and that these were not the works 
of foreigners, but the creation and the property of 
his own nation. 

The repose, for which Elis was indebted to the 
protection of the gods, was secured to Achaia, 
the country which bounded it on the north, by the 
wisdom of men. Having once been inhabited by 
lonians, this maritime country had borne the name of 
Ionia ; which was afterwards applied exclusively to 
the neighbouring sea on the west side of Greece. 
But in the confusion produced by the general emigra- 
tion of the Dorians, it exchanged its ancient inhabitants 
for Achseans.J Achaia, watered by a multitude of 
mountain streams, which descended from the high 
ridges of Arcadia, belonged, with respect to its extent, 
fruitfulness, and population, to the middling countries 
of Greece. The character of its inhabitants corres- 
ponded with this. They never aspired after aggran- 
dizement, or influence abroad. They were not made 
illustrious by great generals or great poets. But 

* Pliny, Hist. Nat. xxxiv. 17. There were as many at Athens, Delphi, 
ind Rhodes. 

t Pans. vi. p. 497, etc. 

t As early as HOC) before Christ.- 



24 CHAPTEll FIRST. 

they possessed good laws. Twelve cities,^ each with 
a small territory, independent of each other in the 
management of their internal affairs, formed a con- 
federacy, which, under the name of the Achaean 
league, could trace its origin to remote antiquity. A 
perfect equality was its fundamental principle ; no 
precedence of rank or power was to be usurped by 
any single city. What an example for the other parts 
of Greece, if they had been able or willing to under- 
stand it ! In this manner the Achseans continued 
for a long time in the enjoyment of happy tranquillity, 
having no share in the wars of their neighbours. 
Their country was in no one's way, and attracted no 
one ; even during the Peloponnesian war, they 
remained neutral. The Macedonian supremacy finally 
dissolved the confederacy, and favoured individual 
tyrants, of whom it made use as its instruments. But 
the time was destined to arrive, when Nemesis should 
exert her povver. The Achaean league was renewed, 
and enlarged, and it became most dangerous to the 
Macedonian rulers. 

The small territory of the city Sicyon, (which 
afterwards belonged to the Achaean league) divided 
Achaia from that of Corinth. In point of extent, this 
state was one of the smallest in Greece ; but the 
importance of a commercial state does not depend on 
the extent of its territory. Venice was never more 
flourishing or more powerful, than at a time when 
it did not possess a square mile on the continent. 
Wealthy Corinth, more than* four miles in extent, 
lay at the foot of a steep and elevated hill, on which 

♦Dymeatui Patrn^ were the most important; Ilelice was swallowed 
up by tin; seu. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 25 

its citadel was built. There was hardly a stronger 
fortress in all Greece, and perhaps no spot afforded a 
more splendid prospect than Acrocorinthus.* Be- 
neath it might be seen the busy city and its territory, 
with its temples, its theatres, and its aqueducts. f Its 
two harbours, Lechaeum on the western bay, Cen- 
chrese on the eastern, filled with ships, and the two 
bays themselves with the isthmus between them, were 
all in sight. The peaks of Helicon and of Par- 
nassus itself, \vere seen at a distance ; and a strong 
eye could distinguish on the eastern side the Acropo- 
lis of Athens. What images and emotions are excit- 
ed by this prospect ! At present barbarians possess 
it, who do not even allow it to be enjoyed. No for- 
eigner is now permitted to ascend the citadel of 
Corinth. 

Beyond the isthmus of the Peloponnesus, which 
the Grecians, acquainted for a long time with no other, 
were accustomed to call simply the Isthmus, lay the 
tract of Hellas. The southern half of the same, stretch- 
ing as far as the chain of CEta, was divided into eight, 
or, if Locris, of which there w^ere two parts, be twice 
counted, into nine districts ; of these, the extent 
was but small, as their number indicates. Near the 
isthmus, on which the temple of Neptune, where all 
Greece assembled to celebrate the Isthmian games, 
was built in a grove of fir-trees, the small territory of 
Megaraf took its beginning ; and through this, along 

♦See Strabo, p. 261. Of modern travellers, Spon and Wheler ascended 
it in 1676. Chateaubriand,!. 36. says, that the prospect at the foot of the 
citadel is enchanting. If it is so now, what must it formerly have been ? 

t Corinth is famous even with the poets, for being well supplied with 
water; compare Euripides in Strabo I.e. Pausanias enumerates, I. ii. its 
many temples and aqueducts. 

JLike that of Corinth, not more than eight miles in length and breadth. 

4 



26 CHAPTER FIRST. 

the high rocky shore, where the robber Sciron is said 
to have exercised his profession, the road conducted 
to the favourite land of the gods, to Attica. 

A neck of land or peninsula, opposite to that of 
Argolis, extends in a southeasterly direction about 
sixty three miles into the jEgean sea, and forms this 
country. Where it is connected with the main land, 
its greatest breadth may be twenty-five miles ; but it 
tapers more and more to a point, till it ends in the 
high cape of Sunium, on the summit of which the 
temple of Minerva announced to the traveller, as he 
arrived from sea, the land which was protected by 
the goddess of courage and wisdom. It was not 
endowed with luxuriant fruitfulness ; it never pro- 
duced so much corn as would supply its own inhabi- 
tants ; and for this, neither the honey of Hymettus, 
nor the marble of the Pentelic mountains, nor even 
the silver mines of Laurium, could have afforded a 
compensation. But the culture of the olive, an 
industrious application to the arts, and the advanta- 
geous use made of the situation of the country for 
the purposes of commerce, gave to the frugal people 
all that they needed and something more ; for the 
activity of commerce was shackled by no restrictive 
laws. Almost the whole country is mountainous ; 
the mountains are indeed of a moderate height, and 
covered with aromatic plants ; but they are stony and 
without forests. Their outlines are, however, won- 
derfully beautiful ; the waters of the Ilissus, the 
Cc])hissus, and of otlier rivers, or, to speak more 
accurately, of other brooks, which stream from them, 
are clear as crystal, and dilicious to the taste ; and 
the almost constant purity of the air, which lends 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 27 

i 

very peculiar tints to the buildings, no less thjin to 
the mountains,* opens a prospect, which distance can 
hardly bound. '' For without doubt (says a modern 
travellerf) this is the most salubrious, the purest, and 
the mildest climate of Greece ; as EuripidesJ has said, 
^ Our air is soft and mild ; the frost of winter is never 
severe, nor the beams of Phcebus oppressive ; so that 
for us there are no attractions in the choicest delights 
which are offered by the fields of Asia, or the wealth 
of Hellas.^ '' 

But where the mountains open, and leave room 
for plains of a moderate extent, the soil is still cover- 
ed by forests of olive-trees, of which the eye can 
perceive no termination. ^^ More beautiful are no- 
where to be seen. Those of Palermo or on the Riv- 
era of Genoa are hardly to be compared with these, 
which seem as it were undying, and century after cen- 
tury send forth new branches and new shoots with ren- 
ovated vigour." § Formerly they overshadowed the 
sacred road, the country of the Ceramicus, and the 
garden of the Academy ; and if the Goddess herself, 
like her scholars, has deserted the soil, she has at 
least left behind her for posterity, the first of the 
presents, which she made to her darling nation. 

Whoever travelled from Corinth and Megara 
across the isthmus to Attica, reached the sacred city 
of Eleusis at the distance of about nine miles from 
Megara. When the inhabitants of that place sub- 
mitted to Athens, they reserved for themselves nothing 

♦ See the remarks of Chateaubriand on this subject. Uiniraire (I Jerusa- 
lem, i. p. 191. 

fBartholdy. BruchstQcke, kc. p. 241. 
i Euripides in Erechtheo. fr. i. v. 15, &c. 
§ Bartholdy. BruchstUcke. kc. p. 220. 



28 CHAPTER riRST. 

but their sanctuaries ;* and hence the mysterious 
festivals of Ceres continued to be celebrated in their 
temple. From this place, the sacred road of almost 
unvarying breadth, led to the city protected by 
Pallas. 

Athens lay in a plain, which on the southwest 
extended for about four miles towards the sea and 
the harbours, but on the other side was enclosed by 
mountains. The plain itself was interrupted by 
several rocky hills. The largest and highest of these 
supported the Citadel or Acropolis, which took its 
name from its founder Cecrops ; round this, the city 
was spread out, especially in the direction of the sea. 
The summit of the hill contained a level space, about 
eight hundred feet long, and half as broad ; which 
seemed, as it were, prepared by nature to support 
those masterpieces of architecture, which announced 
at a great distance the splendour of Athens. The 
only road which led to it, conducted to the Propy- 
l3ea,t with its two wings, the temple of Victory, and 
another temple, ornamented with the pictures of Pol- 
ygnotus. That superb edifice, the most splendid 
monument which was erected under the administra- 
tion of Pericles, the work of Mnesicles, was deco- 
rated by the admirable sculptures of Phidias. J They 
formed the proud entrance to the level summit of the 
hill, on which were the temples of the guardian deities 
of Athens. On the left was the temple of Pallas, the 

• Tnusan. i. p. 92. 

t Compare the sketches and drawings in Stuarfs .'Intifpiitics of .Wicns. 

t A part of these masterpieces has perished. By robbing the Acropolis, 
Lord KIgin iias gained a name, which no other will wish to share with him. 
The sea has swallowed up his plunder. The devastation made by this mod- 
eru Herostralus, is described by Chateaubriand, Itluer, i. p. 202. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 29 

protectress of cities, with the column which fell from 
heaven, and the sacred olive-tree ; and that of Nep- 
tune. But on the right, the Parthenon, the pride of 
Athens, rose above every thing else, possessing the 
colossal statue of Minerva by Phidias, next to the 
Olympian Jupiter, the noblest of his works. At the 
foot of the hill on the one side was the Odeum, and 
the theatre of Bacchus, where the tragic contests were 
celebrated on the festivals of the god, and those 
immortal masterpieces were represented, which, hav- 
ing remained to us, double our regret for those which 
are lost ; on the other side was the Prytaneum, where 
the chief magistrates and most meritorious citizens 
were honoured by a table, provided at the public 
expense. A moderate valley, Ccele, was interposed 
between the Acropolis and the hill on which the 
Areopagus held its assemblies, and again between 
this and the hill of the Pnyx, where the collected 
people was accustomed to decide on the affairs of the 
republic. Here the spot from which Pericles and 
Demosthenes harangued, is still distinct (it is imper- 
ishable, since it is hewn in the rock) ; not long ago 
it was cleared from rubbish, together with the four 
steps which led to it.* 

If any desire a more copious enumeration of the 
temples, the halls, and the works of art, which deco- 
rated the city of Pallas, they may find it in Pau- 
sanias. Even in his time, how much, if not the 
larger part, yet the best, had been removed ; how 
much had been injured and destroyed in the wars ; 
and yet when we read what was still there, we 
naturally ask with respect to Athens (as with res- 

♦ Chateaubriand. Itineraire, vol. i. p. 184. 



30 CHAPTEll FIRST. 

pect to SO many other Grecian cities), where eoald 
all this have found room ? The whole country round 
Athens, particularly the long road to the Pirseeus, 
was ornamented with monuments of all kinds, espe- 
cially with the tombs of great poets, warriors, and 
statesmen, who did not often reir>ain after death with- 
out expressions of public gratitude, which were 
given so much the less frequently during their lives. 
A double wall, called the Northern and Southern, 
enclosed the road, which was nearly five miles long, 
on both sides, and embraced the two harbours of 
Pirjeeus and Phalereus. This wall, designed and 
executed by Themistocles, was one of the most impor- 
tant works of the Athenians. It was forty Grecian 
ells in height, built entirely of freestone, and so 
broad, that two baggage -wagons could pass each other. 
The Piraeeus, to which it led, formed (as did Phalerae) 
a city by itself with its own public squares, temples, 
market-places, and the commercial crowd which en- 
livened it ; and it seemed perhaps even more animat- 
ed than Athens.* Its harbour, well provided with 
docks and magazines, was spacious enough to hold in 
its three divisions four hundred triremes ; whilst the 
Phalereus and Munychius could each accommodate only 
about fifty. t All three were formed naturally by the 
bays of the coast ; but the Pirseeus excelled the others 
not only in extent, but also in security. 

The plain of Athens was surrounded on three 
sides by mountains, which formed its limits within no 

♦The Firjpeus was sometimes reckoned as a part of Athens ; and this 
explains how it whs possible to say, that the city was two hundred stadia in 
dircurnference. Dio Chrysost. Or. vi. 

t The rich compilations of Meursius on the Piraeeus, no less than oo 
Athens, the Acropolis, the Ceramicus, &ic. (Gronov. Thes. Ant. Gr. vol. ii. 
iii.) contain almost all the passages of the ancients respecting them. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 31 

very great distance of the city. The prospect from 
the Acropolis and the Parthenon commanded on the 
east the two peaks of Hymettus ; on the north, Pen- 
telicus with its quarries of marble ; to the northwest, 
the Cithaeron was seen at a great distance, rising 
above the smaller mountains ; and Laurium, rich in 
silver mines, lay to the southeast almost at the end of 
the peninsula ; but towards the southwest, the eye 
could freely range over the harbours and the Saronic 
bay, with the islands of Salamis and jEgina, as 
far as the elevated citadel of Corinth. *^ Many of the 
chief places of the cantons (J;;^©/), into which Attica 
was divided, (and of these there were more than one 
hundred and seventy) might also be seen ; and 
the situation was distinct even of the towns, which 
covered the mountains. No one of these was impor- 
tant as a city, and yet there were few, which had not 
something worthy of observation, their statues, altars, 
and temples ; for to w^hatever part of his country the 
Athenian strayed, he needed to behold something, 
which might remind him that he was in Attica. 
There were many, of which the name alone awakened 
proud recollections ; and no one was so far from 
Athens, that more than a day needed to be spent on 
the road to it. It required but about five hours to 
reach the long but narrow plainf of Marathon, on the 
opposite coast of Attica. It was twenty-five miles to 
Sunium which lay at the southern extremity of the 
peninsula, and about twenty miles to the boundary of 
Boeotia. 

•Chateaubriand. Itindraire, etc, i. p. 206. 
f Chandler's Travels, p. 163. 



32 CHAPTER FIRST. 

This country, so frequently enveloped in clouds^ 
lay to the northwest of Attica, and exhibited, in 
almost every respect, a different character. Boeotia 
was shut in by the chain of Helicon, Cithaeron, 
Parnassus, and, towards the sea, Ptoas ; which 
mountains enclosed a large plain, constituting the 
chief part of the country. Numerous rivers, of which 
the Cephissus was the most important,* descending 
from the heights, had probably stagnated for a long 
time, and had formed lakes, of which Copais is 
the largest. This lake must have subterraneous 
outlets; for while the canals, through which its 
waters were anciently distributed, have fallen into 
decay, it has so far decreased in modern times, that 
it is now almost dried to a swamp.f But these 
same rivers appear to ^jive formed the soil of Boeotia, 
which is among the most fruitful in Greece. Bceotia 
was also perhaps the most thickly settled part of 
Greece ; for no other could show an equal number of 
important cities. The names of almost all of them 
are frequently mentioned in history ; for it was the 
will of destiny, that the fate of Greece should often 
be decided in Boeotia. Its freedom was won at 
Plataiae, and lost at Chaeronea ; the Spartans conquer- 
ed at Tanagra, and at Leuctra their power was 
crushed forever. Thebes with it% seven gates, (more 
distinguished for its extent than its buildings) esteem- 
ed itself the head of the Bcvotian cities, although it 
was not acknowledged to be such by all the rest 
This usurpation on the part of Thebes, of a suprem- 

♦ Distinct from the Cephissus in Attica, 
f Barlholdy. Bruchstncke, kc. p. 230. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE, 33 

acy over Boeotia, was of decisive importance in seve- 
ral periods of Grecian history. 

Boeotia was divided by mount Cithaeron from 
Attica, and by Parnassus from Phocis. This district, 
of moderate size and irregular shape, extended to the 
south along the bay of Corinth ; and was bounded on 
the north by the chain of (Eta. Here are those passes 
which led from Bceotia to Attica. Of these, the most 
important is near the city Elatea, and on that account 
was early occupied by Philip on his second invasion of 
Greece. The desolate mountain of Parnassus, once 
associated with the fame of Phocis, presents to the 
traveller of our times, nothing but recollections. Del- 
phi lay on the south side of it, overshadowed by its 
double peak ; and not far above the city was the 
temple with the oracle of Apollo. Here the master- 
pieces of art were displayed in countless abundance 
under the protection of the god ; together with the 
costly and consecrated offerings of nations, cities,* 
and kings. Here in the Amphictyonic council, still 
more costly treasures, the first maxims of the laws of 
nations were matured for the Greeks. Hither on the 
festival days, when the great games of the Pythian 
deity recurred (games surpassed only by those of 
Olympia), pilgrims and spectators poured in throngs; 
here at the Castalian fountain, the songs of the poets 
resounded in solemn rivalship ; and, more exciting 
than all, the acclamations of the multitude. 

But those blossoms all have perished 
In the north's destroying blast! 

♦Many of them had, as at Olympia, treasuries of their own. Piiny, 
xxxiv. 17. estimates the number of statues at Delphi, as at Olympia and Ath- 
ens, to have been even in his time 3(K>0. 

5 



34 CHAPTER FIRST. 

Not even ruins have been spared to us by time. 
Only one monument of doubtful character seems to 
designate the spot, where (Edipus slew his father 
Laius ; and whilst every vestige of greatness and glory 
has vanished, nothing but the memory of a crime is 
perpetuated.* 

Piiocis and mount Parnassiis divide the two parts 
of Locris from each other. The eastern part, inhab- 
ited by the two tribes which took their names from 
the city Opus and mount Cnemis,t lifs along the 
Euripus, or the long strait, which divides the island 
Eubcea from Bceotia ; and would have almost nothing 
to show, that is worthy of commemoration, were it 
not that the inseparable names of Thermopylae and 
Leonidas produce an emotion in every noble mind. 
^^ At Thermopylse,'' says Hcrodotus,J ^* a steep and 
inaccessible mountain rises on the west side in the 
direction of CEta ; but on the east side of the road 
are the sea and marshes. There are warm fountains 
in the pass, and an altar of Hercules stands near 
them. On going from Trachin to Hellas, the road is 
but half a plethrum (fifty feet) wide, yet the narrow- 
est place is not there ; but just in front and back 
of Thermopyiie, where there is but room for one 
carriage." Thus Thermopyhe was considered as the 
only road, by which an army could pass from Thessa- 
ly into Hellas, for nothing more than a footpath 
ran across the mountains : and Thermopylse, not only 
during the wars with Persia, but also in the age of 
Philip, was considered the gate of Greece. 

♦B;irtlu)My. Bruchstacke, p. 251. 
t Locri, Opimti.. and E|)icijfmidii. 
t Hciod. vii. 176. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GUEECE. 35 

The western part of Locris, on the bay of Corinth, 
inhabited by the Ozoli, was greater in extent, but 
possessed fewer remarkable objects. Yet its harbour 
Naupactus has preserved its importance, while so 
many of the most celebrated cities have become in- 
significant. It is now called Lepanto, and is perhaps 
the only town of which the modern name is more 
harmonious than the ancient. 

The western parts of Hellas, rough jEtolia, and 
woody Acarnania, are indeed among the largest 
districts, but are so inferior to the rest in fame, that 
the historian can do little more than name them. 
Nature was here neither less sublime nor less muni- 
ficent ; both were situated on the largest of the 
Grecian rivers, the Achelous, which flowed between 
them ; both were inhabited by descendants of the 
Hellenes ; both were once celebrated for heroes ; and 
yet the iEtolians and the Acarnanians remained bar- 
barians, after the Athenians had become the instruc- 
ters of the world. — How difficult it is, to comprehend 
the history of the culture of nations I 

The chain of (Eta, which farther west receives 
the name of Othrys, and at last of Pindus, and, taking 
a northerly direction, is connected with the mountains 
of Macedonia, divides the central part of Greece 
from the northern. Thessaly, the largest of all the 
Grecian provinces, (though its extent cannot be given 
with accuracy, for its boundary on the north was never 
defined,) forms the eastern, and Epirusthe western part 
of the same. There is hardly any district in Greece, for 
which nature seems to have done so much as for Thessaly. 
The mountains which have been mentioned, surround- 
ed it on three sides ; while the peaks of Ossa and of 



36 CHAPTER FIRST. 

OlympuSj ror.e above them on the east along the 
coasts of the ^'Egean sea. Thessaly can with justice 
be called the land of the Peneus ; which, descending 
from Pindus, llowed through it from west to east. 
A multitude of tributary streams poured from the 
north and the south into this river. The traditions 
of the ani'ients related,* that it had stagnated for 
centuries, when an earthquake divided Olympus and 
Ossa,t ^nd opened for it a passage to the iEgean sea 
through the delicious vale of Tempe.J Thus the 
plain of Thessaly arose from the floods, possessed of 
a soil, which tliey had long been fertilizing. No oth- 
er district had so extensive an internal navigation ; 
which, with a little assistance from art, might have 
been carried to all its parts. Its fruitful soil was 
fitted alike for pasturing and the cultivation of corn ; 
its coasts, especially the bay of Pagasa,v afforded the 
best harbours for shipping; nature seemed hardly to 
have left a wish ungratified. It was in Thessaly, that 
the tribe of the Hellenes, according to the tradition, 
first applied themselves to agriculture ; and from 
thence its several branches spread over the more 
southern lands. Almost all the names of its towns, 
as Pelasgiotis and Thessaliotis, recall some associa- 

* Herod, viii. G. Strab. ix. p. 296. 

fTo commcuiorate (he event, a festival was instituted in Thessaly, 
ealled the Peloria. which festival seems to have been continued in a chris- 
tian one. liartholdy, p. 137. 

X " Tempo forms, as it were, a triple valley, which is broad at the en- 
trance and at the end, but very narrow in the middle. ' Tiiese are the 
words of Bartholdy, who, of all modern travellers, has given us the most 
accurate account of Tempo from his own observation. BruchstUcke, 6ic. p. 
112,&c. 

§ Pa-nsa itself (afterwards called Demetrias), lolcos, and Magnesia, which 
last lay witliont ihe hay of Pagasa. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 37 

tion, connected with the primitive history and heroic 
age of the nation. The Doric tribe found in Estiieo- 
tis its oldest dwelling-places ; and who has ever heard 
the name of Phthiotis, without remembering the hero 
of the Iliad, the great Pelides ? Thessaly was always 
well inhabited and rich in cities. In the interior, the 
most celebrated were Larissa, situated in the midst of 
the noble plain, and Pherae ; lolcos, from whence the 
Argonauts took their departure, and Magnesia, were 
on the seacoast. But it was perhaps the very fer- 
tility of the soil, which ruined the Thessalians. They 
rioted in sensual enjoyments ; they were celebrated 
for banquets, and not for works of genius ; and al- 
though Olympus, the mountain of the gods, was on 
the boundary of their land, nothing godlike was ever 
unfolded with its precints. Is it strange that in the 
midst of such gross sensuality, the love of self over- 
powered the love of country ; that neither heroes 
nor poets were created among them by the inspirations 
of patriotism ? Anarchy and tyranny commonly 
followed each other in regular succession ; and thus 
Thessaly, always ripe for foreign subjugation, cower- 
ed of itself beneath the yoke of the Persians, and 
afterwards under that of Philip. 

On the opposite side of the Peneus, the pure race 
and language of the Hellenes were not to be found. 
Other nations, probably of Illyrian descent, dwelt 
there ; the Perrhsebi, the Athamanes, and others ; 
who, as Strabo relates, sometimes claimed to belong to 
the Thessalians, and sometimes to the Macedonians.^ 
The case was not different in Epirus, which lay to the 
west. The house of the iEacidae, a Grecian family, 

♦Strabo, vii. p. 222. 



38 CHAPTER FIRST. 

the descendants of Achilles, were indeed the riders 
over the Molossi ; and the oracle of the Jupiter of 
the Hellenes was heard in the sacred grove of Dodo- 
na ; but still the larger portion of the inhabitants 
seems hardly to have betn of the Grecian race. 

The main land of Hellas was surrounded by a 
coronet of islands, which were gradually occupied 
by the Hellenes, and came to be considered as parts 
of their country. They rose above the sea in beauti- 
ful verdure, and were surmounted by rocky hills. We 
can hardly doubt, that we see in them the remains of 
an earlier world ; when the waters which covered the 
middle parts of Asia, and the deserts of northern 
Africa, retired, leaving behind them the Euxine and 
the Mediterranean sea as two vast reservoirs. Each 
of those islands commonly bore the name of the chief 
town, of which it formed the territory ; with the 
exception of the three large islands Euboea, Crete, 
and Cyprus, each of which contained several cities. 
Almost every one of them possessed its own remark- 
able objects and its own claims to fame. Fruitful 
Corcyra* boasted then, as it does now, of its har- 
bour and its ships. Ithaca, small as it is, shares the 
immortality of Ulysses and Homer. Cythera, in the 
south, was the residence of the Paphian goddess. iEgi- 
na, unimportant as it seems, long disputed with Athens 
the sovereignty of the sea. What Greek could hear 
Salamis named, without feeling a superiority over the 
barbariins? Eubona was celebrated for its fruitful- 
ness ; Thasos for its gold mines; Samothrace for its 
mysteries ; and in the labyrinth of the Cyclades and 
Sporadcs, what ishiud had not afibrdcd the poets the 

♦iNow Corfu. 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 39 

subject of a hymn.* Delos and Naxus had their 
gods ; Paros its marble ; Melos its misfortunes.f 
If so many of them are now desolate ; if the alluring 
Cythera has become a naked rock; if Samos is poison- 
ed by its swamps ; if nature herself seems to have 
grown old ; shall we draw an inference from this with 
reference to ancient times ? The Etesian winds blow 
certainly with more piercing roughness, now that the 
tops of the mountains are naked ; the brooks stagnate 
in the desolate plains ; but the change of seasons even 
now produces varying scenes; and the traveller, who 
at one time finds the Archipelago melancholy and 
waste, a few months later may contemplate a smiling 
prospect. " In spring, these islands are covered with 
green turf, with anemones and flowers of all colours. 
But in the month of August, when the northerly 
winds prevail, every thing is burnt and dried up, and 
the parched fields produce no herbage again before 
autumn.'*} 

This view of Greece, though it cannot claim to be 
considered a regular description, leads us to several 
remarks, which may perhaps throw some light on the 
history of the nation. 

First : Greece was naturally so divided and cut in 
pieces in a geographical point of view, that it could 
not have been easy for any one district to gain 
the supremacy over the rest. Thessaly could not 
well control the lands which lay to the south of 
(Eta ; and still less could Hellas sway the Pelopon- 
nesus, or the Peloponnesus, Hellas. Nature herself 

*iNeed we mention the hymns of Calliraaclius ? 
tSee Thiicydulf s, V. 116. 

\ Barthol<iy. Biiii;h«iacke, k.c. p. 194. The whole description of thr 
Archipelago by this traveller, is worthy of being consulted. 



40 CHAPTER FIRST. 

had erected breastworks for those, who desired and 
who knew how to be free. It was easy to defend 
TherniopylsB, or the Isthmus. We do not here take 
into consideration the superior power of a foreign 
conqueror ; but even that could have effected little, 
so long as the nation refused to forge its own chains. 

Again : If Greece was excelled by many countries 
in fertility, it would yet be difficult, and, at least in 
Europe, impossible to find a land of such limited 
extent, where nature had done so much to prepare for 
the various branches of industry. Greece was not 
merely an agricultural, or a commercial country, or a 
land fitted for pasturing ; it was all, at once ; but dif- 
ferent parts of it had different degrees of aptitude for 
the one or the other. The fruitful Messenia was fit 
for the growth of corn ; Arcadia for the nurture of 
cattle. Attica was proud of its oil, and the honey of 
Hymettus ; Thessaly of its horses. Of mines, there 
were not many ; still they were not unknown in Lau- 
rium and Thasos. The maritime towns were suited 
for trade and commerce ; and the coasts, indented 
with bays, and the islands, invited to navigation. 
This variety of pursuits in active life may have been 
the cause of an extensive intellectual culture, which 
was directed to many objects, and perhaps laid the 
foundation for the farther improvement of the nation. 

Lastly : No other country in Europe was so fa- 
vourably situated for holding commerce with the oldest 
cultivated nations of the western world. On the way 
to Asia Minor and Phcenicia, one island almost touched 
upon another. It was easy to cross into Italy ; and 
the coasts of Egypt were not far distant. Even in 
the times of fable, a path was discovered from the 



GEOGRAPHICAL VIEW OF GREECE. 41 

shores of Thessaly to those of Colchis ; and how much 
earlier, and with how much greater facility, to those 
countries, where no rocks, like the Syinplegades, 
opposed the passage of the daring Argo ? 



I 



42 ClIAPTEK SECOND. 



CHAPTER II. 



E.\RLIEST CONDITION OF THE NATION ; AND ITS BRANCHES. 

The nation of the Hellenes^ as they called them- 
selves after an ancient leader, (for they received the 
name of Greeks from foreigners,) preserved many a 
tradition respecting their earliest state, representing 
them to have been nearly on a level with the savage 
tribes which now wander in the forests of North Amer- 
ica.* From these traditions, it would seem, that 
there was once a time, when they had no agriculture, 
but lived on the spontaneous produce of the woods ; 
and when even fire could not be appropriated to the 
service of man, till it had first been stolen from Hea- 
ven. Yet, in the meanwhile, they gradually spread 
over the country, which they afterwards possessed : and 
all foreign tribes were either driven from the soil, or 
were mingled with them. Much is told of the emigra- 
tion of individual tribes, from the southern districts to 
the northern, and from these back again into the south- 
ern ; but the peculiar habits of nomadcs, as seen in 
the nations of middle Asia, belonged to the Greeks as 
little as to the Germanic race. The moderate extent 
and the hilly character of their country, which afford- 
ed no pasture for large flocks, did not admit of that 
kind of life. 

As far as we can judge from the very indefinite ac- 
counts of this early period, it seems that, especially in 

•^scliyl. From, vinct. v. 442, etc. 






EARLIEST CONDITION OF THE NATION. 43 

the fourteenth and thirteenth centuries before the Chris- 
tian era, the race of the Hellenes was already so far ex- 
tended over Hellas, that it was every where predom- 
inant. For it appears as such even then, before the 
Trojan war. The nation of the Pelasgi, which, no 
less than that of the Hellenes, belonged to the first 
inhabitants of the country, and which must be consid- 
ered as having had a different origin, since their' 
language was different,-^ may at an early period have 
been the most powerful, but was constantly reduced 
within narrower limits, and either emigrated to Italy 
and other countries ; or, where it preserved its resi- 
dence, as in Arcadia and Attica, was gradually min- 
gled with the Hellenes, of whom the power was 
constantly increasing, until every vestige of it, as a 
separate race, was entirely lost. Whilst the Hellenes 
were thus spreading through Greece, the several 
chief tribes of them became more and more distinctly 
marked ; and this division was so lasting and so full 
of consequences, that the internal history of the na- 
tion for the most part depends on it. Of the four most 
important branches, the lonians, Dorians, iEolians, 
and Ach jeans, the two first (for the iEolians were 
chiefly mingled with the Dorians),f and the Achaeans 
were so eminent, that they deserve to be regarded as 
the chief component parts of the nation. It is impor- 
tant, in order to become acquainted with the people, 
to know in what parts of Greece these several tribes 
had their places of residence. But these places did not 
remain unchanged ; the event which had the greatest 

♦ Herod, i. 57. 

t Euripides, enumerating in Ion, v. 1581, etc. the tribes of the Hellenes, 
makes no mention of the iEolians. 



44 CHAPTER SECOND. 

influence on them for the succeeding time, happened 
shortly after the termination of the Trojan war. Till 
then the tribe of the Achseans had been so powerful, 
that Homer, who, as Thucydides has already observ- 
ed,* had no general name for the whole nation, com- 
monly distinguishes that tribe from the others ; 
which he sometimes designates collectively by the 
name of Panhellenes.f It possessed at that time 
almost all the Peloponnesus, with the exception of the 
very district which afterwards was occupied by it and 
bore its name, but which was then still called Ionia ; 
and as the territories of Agamemnon and Menelaus, 
the most powerful of the Grecian princes, both lay in 
that peninsula, the first rank was clearly due to the 
Achseans. But soon after this war, it w'as the lot of 
that tribe to be in part subjugated and reduced to the 
severest bondage,^ and in part to be expelled from 
the lands where it had resided, and confined to a 
small district, which from that time was called Achaia. 
This was a consequence of the emigration of the Do- 
rians, under the direction of the descendants of Her- 
cules ; of which emigration the chief object was the 
conquest of the Peloponnesus ; but it also occasioned 
a change in the places occupied by the other tribes 
of the Hellenes. From this time almost the whole of 
the Peloponnesus was occupied by the Dorians, and 
the kindred tribe of the iElolians, who possessed Elis ; 

♦Thucyd. i. 3. 

f IlaukXvvtf xa) *A;t«<w, as Iliad ii. 530. The Hellenes of Homer are 
particularly the inhabitants of Thessaly -, but the expression Panhellenes proves 
tliat even then the name liad begun to receive a general application. 

tThc llclots of the Spartans were, for the most part, descendants of 
the conquered Achteans. 



EARLIEST CONDITION OF THE NATION. 45 

the district of Achaia alone became the property of 
the Achaeans, who, being in quest of refuge, drove 
from it the lonians. But besides this, a large part of 
the rest of Hellas was occupied by tribes, which, 
though not expressly called Dorians, betrayed by 
their dialects their Doric origin ; Boeotians, Locrians, 
Thessalians, and even the Macedonian Hellenes 
belonged to this class ; and although the inhabitants 
of the western maritime tracts and islands w^ere at 
first called jEolians, their dialects were so similar, 
that they soon ceased to be distinguished from the 
Dorians. This powerful tribe was also extended 
towards the east and west by means of its colonies. 
Several of the islands of the Archipelago were occu- 
pied by them ; and they flourished on the coast of 
Asia Minor, and still more in Lower Italy and Sicily, 
and even in Africa at Cyrene. The Ionic branch, as 
far as we know, kept possession of no part of the main 
land of Greece, excepting Attica.* But Attica alone 
outweighed in glory and power all the rest of Greece. 
Most of the large island of Eiiboea also belonged to 
the lonians ; many of the small islands of the Archi- 
pelago were entirely occupied by them ; and while 
their colonies in Asia Minor were decidedly superi- 
or, their colonies on the coasts of Italy and Sicily were 
but little inferior to those of other Grecian tribes. 
From the earliest times, these two tribes were 
distinguished from each other by striking characteris- 

♦The other lonians and even the Athenians laid aside the name ; and 
none formally preserved it except those of Asia Minor. Herod, i. 143. 
Hence the extent of this tribe cannot be accurately given ; and indeed no 
attempt should be made to trace every little Grecian tribe to its origin, and 
form a tree of descent for them all. This the Greek.s themselves were never 
able to do : but the chief tribes remained distinct. 



46 CHAPTER SECOND. 

tics, which were not removed by the cultivation which 
was becoming universal. On the Doric tribe, the 
character of severity is imprinted, which is observa- 
ble in the full tones of its dialect, in its songs, its 
dances, the simplicity of its style of living, and in its 
constitutions. It was most strongly attached to ancient 
usage. From this its regulations for private and 
public life took their origin, which were fixed by the 
prescriptive rules of its lawgivers. It respected the 
superiority of family and age. The governments of 
the Doric cities were originally more or less the gov- 
ernment of rich and noble families ; and this is one 
cause of the greater solidity of their political institu- 
tions. Good counsel was drawn from the experience 
of age ; wherever an old man appeared, the young 
rose from their seats. Religion among the Dorians 
was less a matter of luxury ; but it was more an 
object of which they felt the need. What important 
transaction did they ever begin, without first consult- 
ing the oracle ? All this is true of the earliest times. 
When once the reverence for ancient usage was over- 
come, the Dorians knew no bounds ; and Tarentum 
exceeded all cities in luxury, just as Syracuse 
did in internal feuds. After this tribe had once 
emigrated to the Peloponnesus, not only the crreater 
part of that peninsula, but also of the neighbouring 
main land of Hellas was occupied by it. 

Tlie lonians were on the contrary more distin- 
guished for vivacity and a proneness to excitement. 
Ancient usage restrained them much less than it did 
the Dorians. They were easily induced to change, if 
pleasure could be gained by the change. They were 
bent on enjoyment; and seem to have been equally sus- 



EARLIEST CONDITION OF THE NATION. 47 

ceptible of refined gratifications of the mind and of those 
of the senses. They lived amidst holidays ; and noth- 
ing was pleasant to them without song and dance. Its 
soft dialect brings to mind the languages of the South 
sea ; but in both cases the remark is found to be true, 
that a soft language is by no means a proof of deficiency 
in warlike spirit. In the constitutions of their states, 
hereditary privileges were either rejected at once, or 
borne with only for a short time. The supreme 
authority rested with the people, and although it was 
limited by many institutions, the people stiil decided 
the character of the government. Any thing could 
be expected of these states, rather than domestic 
tranquillity. Nothing was so gi'eat that they did not 
believe they could attain it ; and for that very reason 
they were often actually successful. 

These differences in the natural character of the 
most important tribes, needed to be mentioned at the 
beginning. There are few subjects in history, which 
have been so little illustrated, especially with refer- 
ence to their consequences, as the characters of nations 
and their branches. And yet it is these peculiarities, 
which in a certain degree form the guiding thread in 
the web of the history of nations. From whatever 
they may proceed, whether from original descent, or 
the earliest institutions, or from both, experience 
teaches, that they are almost indelible. The differ- 
ence between the Doric and Ionic tribes, runs through 
the whole of Grecian history. This produced the 
deep-rooted hatred between Sparta and Athens, though 
that hatred may have been fed by other causes ; and 
who needs to be told, that the history of all Greece is 
connected with the history of those leading states. 



48 CHAPTER SECOKi). 

The diflerencc of tribes and their dispositions 
was also one of the chief causes of the subsequent 
political partitions of the soil. There probably was 
never a land of similar extent^ in which so large a 
number of states subsisted together. They lived^ 
both the large and the small ones, (if indeed we may 
call these large, which were only proportionally so), 
each after its own customs ; and hence Greece was 
saved from the torpor of large empires, and was able 
to preserve so much life and activity within itself. 

Of the earliest history of the nation, we can expect 
only fragments. We leave it to the historian to 
collect them and to judge of their value. But we 
must direct attention to those general circumstances, 
which had a decisive influence on the the earliest 
progress of national culture, if we would form correct 
opinions with respect to it. Before we can describe 
the heroic age, we must explain the influence of 
religion, of early poetry, and of foreign emigrations, 
and show how they served to introduce that age. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 49 



. CHAPTER THIRD. 

ORIGINAL SOURCES OF THE CULTURE OF THE GREEKS. 

Religion, 

It is not easy to decide, whether the culture of a 
nation proceeds originally from their sacred or their 
civil institutions. The character of the domestic 
relations, the proper application of the means pro- 
vided for the easier and more regular support of 
life, agriculture, and husbandry, constitute the first 
foundation of national culture ; but even these can 
make but little progress without the assistance of 
religion. Without the fear of the gods, marriage 
loses its sanctity, and property its security. The 
earthly and the divine are so mingled in our natures, 
that nothing but a continued harmony between them 
both, can elevate us above the mere animal creation. 
But it has been wisely ordained by the Author of our 
being, that the feelings of religion can be unfolded, 
and thus the character of our existence ennobled, 
even before a high degree of knowledge has been 
attained. It would be difficult, and perhaps impossi- 
ble, to find a nation, which can show no vestiges of 
religion; and there never yet has been, nor can there 
be a nation, with which the reverence for a superior 
being was the fruit of refined philosophy. 

The foundation of all religion, is the belief in 
higher existences (however differently these may be 
represented to the mind), which have an influence on 
7 



50 CHAPTER THIRD. 

our destinies. The natural consequence of this belief 
are certain rites of worship; invocations^ sacrifices, and 
offerings. All this is so connected with the feelings of 
man^ that it springs from within him, and exists inde- 
pendent of all research or knowledge. And this is 
the religion of the people. But so soon as the intelli- 
gent spirit of man was somewhat awakened, a higher 
principle was separated (though in very different 
ways) from this simple faith : and that remained in the 
possession of a small circle of priests, of the initiated, 
of the enlightened. If the religion of the people 
reposed only on belief and indistinct conceptions, 
certain doctrines, on the contrary, belonged to those 
higher circles, although they were often represented 
by images, and exhibited to the senses by outward 
ceremonies. These two kinds of religion commonly 
remained distinct from each other ; and the difference 
was the most clearly marked in such nations, as had 
a cast of priests. But still there were some points, in 
which they both were united. Even a cast of priests, 
with whatever secrecy they guarded their doctrines, 
could iniluence the people only by means of external 
forms. But the less the order of priests is separated 
by a nice line of division from the mass of the people, 
the more faint becomes the distinction between the 
religion of the people and the doctrines of the priests. 
How far the two differed from each other, and remain- 
ed different, must ever be an object of learned 
inquiry ; to have confounded them, has been one of 
the chief sources of error with regard to the religion 
of the ancients. 

Among the Greeks there never w as a distinct cast 
«f priests, nor even, as we shall hereafter observe, a 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OP CULTUUE. 51 

separate order of priesthood. And yet, beside the 
popular religion, they had a religion of the initiated ; 
and their mysteries were almost as ancient as the 
faith of the people. Each of these must be considered 
by itself, before we can draw any general conclusion 
respecting the influence of religion on their char- 
acter. 

The popular religion of the Greeks rested on a 
belief in certain superhuman beings, and in the influ- 
ence exercised by them over the destinies of mortals ; 
on the fear of offending them, resulting from this 
belief; and on the custom of worshipping them. Yet 
according to the account of the earliest and most cred- 
ible witnessess, these divinities were not of Grecian 
origin ; and the learned investigations of modern 
writers on the origin of them individually, establish 
the fact beyond a doubt.* " The Hellenes,^' says 
Herodotus,t '^ have received their gods of the Pelas- 
gi ; but the Pelasgi, who at first honoured their gods 
without giving them particular names, took the names 
of their divinities from the Egyptians.^' This 
account of the historian has difficulties, which cannot 
be entirely cleared away. If it be granted, that 
certain divinities and the manner in which they were 
worshipped came from Egypt, we may still ask, how 
could the names have been of Egyptian origin, since 
the names of the Egyptian gods are almost all known 
to us, and are very different from those of the Greeks. 
We learn of Herodotus himself, that it was common 
for the Egyptian priests, even in his age, to institute 

* Compare, above all, Crcuzer. Symbolik, h. ii. s. 376, k.c. and BoUiger, 
Kunstraythologie, Abschn. i.tlber Zeus ; Absclin. ii. uber Juno. 
t Herod, ii. 50. 32. 



52 CHAPTER THIRD. 

comparisons between their gods and those of the 
Greeks, and to transfer the names of the latter, to 
their own divinities. And this enables us, at least, 
to explain how the historian, who was accustomed to 
hear a Jupiter, a Bacchus, a Diana, mentioned in 
Egypt, could have thought the matter very probable. 
But the question is still by no means answered. For if 
the Egyptian priests, in the time of Herodotus, appli- 
ed the Grecian names to their gods, how can we 
explain the alleged fact, that the Greeks first borrow- 
ed those names from them ? There are, however, 
two circumstances, which we may infer from the words 
of Herodotus himself, and which throw some light on 
the subject. The historian has not concealed the 
source of his information. These assertions were 
made to him at Dodona ; he heard then a tradition 
of the priests of that place. But the oracle of 
Dodona derived its origin from the Egyptians ; can 
we wonder then, that its priests should derive the 
gods of the Greeks from the same source ? Again : 
it is clear from Herodotus, that the Hellenes did not 
receive them directly from the Egyptians, but through 
the Pelasgi ; that is, they received them at second 
hand. We shall hereafter remark, that they came 
chiefly by way of Crete and Samothrace. Could 
such circuitous routes have left them unchanged ? 
And is it not probable, that the Pelasgi essentially 
altered them in their own way, before delivering 
them to the Hellenes? Q.uestions of this kind cannot 
now be answered with certainty ; but, however many 
of the Egyptian gods may have been introduced into 
Greece, it is certain that not all were of that origin. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 53 

The father of history has not forgotten to remark,^ 
that Neptune, Juno, Bacchus, and others were not 
of Egygtian origin, and this has been fully substan- 
tiated by the acute investigations of the modern 
inquirers, whom we have just cited. 

But to whatever country the gods of the Hellenes 
may have originally belonged, they certainly did not 
remain, in Greece, what they had been before. We 
need but throw a glance on the Grecian religion to 
convince ourselves, that the gods of the Greeks be- 
came entirely their property, if they were not so 
originally ; that is, the representations which they 
made of them, were entirely different from the con- 
ceptions of those nations, of whom they may have 
borrowed them. Wherever Jupiter, Juno, Neptune, 
and PhoBbus Apollo, may have first been worshipped, 
no country but Hellas adored the Olympian ruler of 
the world, the queen of heaven, the power which 
encompassed the world, the far-darting god of light. 
And it was the same with the rest. What the Gre- 
cian touched, became gold, though before it had been 
but a baser metal. 

But if the popular religion of the Greeks was formed 
by changing the character of foreign gods, in what did 
the change consist? What were the characteristics 
of the Grecian assembly of divinities ? This ques- 
tion is important, not for the history of the Grecian 
religion alone, but for the general history of religion 
itself. For the problem is nothing less, than to fix 
on the essential diiference between the religion of the 
ancient eastern and western world. 

♦Herod. li. 60. 



54 CHAPTER THIRD. 

This characteristic difTcrence may yet be easily 
discovered ; and may be reduced^ we think, to a 
single head. 

All inquiries relative to the divinities of the East, 
even though the explanations of individual ones may 
be various, lead to the general result, that objects and 
powers of nature lay at their foundation. There may 
have been first corporeal objects, the sun, the moon, 
the stars, the earth, the river which watered the 
country ; or there may have been powers of nature, a 
creating, a preserving, a destroying power ; or, which 
was more usual, both these may have been combined ; 
and visible objects become objects of adoration, in so 
far as they were the expressions of a creating or 
destroying power. When the gods of the Egyptians, 
the Indians, the Persians, the Phrygians, the Phoeni- 
cians, and others, are analyzed, even in cases where the 
interpretation remains imperfect, it cannot be doubt- 
ed, that some idea of this kind lay at the bottom, and 
was the predominant one. They had but one signifi- 
cation, as far as this idea was connected with it ; and 
the sacred traditions and mythological tales respect- 
ing them, seem to us without meaning, because we 
have so often lost the key to their interpretation. 
" The Egyptians,'' Herodotus relates,^ '* had a sacred 
tradition, that Hercules once appeared before Amnion, 
and desired to see his face. Amnion refused, and 
Hercules continued his entreaties ; upon this, Ammon 
slew a ram, veiled himself in its skin, put on its head, 
and in this plight showed himself to Hercules. From 
that time the Thebans ceased to sacrifice rams ; only 
once a year, on the festival of Ammon, they kill a 

♦llerod. ii. 42. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 55 

single one, hang its skin round the picture of the god, 
and show at the same time the picture of Hercules/' 
Who understands this story and this festival from the 
mere relation? But when we learn that the ram, 
opening the Egyptian year, is the symbol of the 
approaching spring, that Hercules is the sun of that 
season in its full power, the story, as well as the 
festival, is explained as descriptive of the spring, 
and as a figurative representation of the season 
that is beginning. In this, as in similar cases, 
the object or power of nature was exhibited under a 
human form ; for the tendency to copy that form, is 
too deeply fixed in our natures ; or rather it results 
immediately from the limitations of the same. But 
in all such cases in the East, where the human form 
was attributed to the gods, it was but a secondary 
affair, the indispensable means of presenting them to 
the senses. It was never any thing more. And this 
is the reason, why no hesitation was made amonoj 
those nations to depart from this human form, and to 
disfigure it whenever it seemed possible to give, by 
that means, a greater degree of distinctness to the 
symbolic representation ; or if any other object could 
thus be more successfully accomplished. This is the 
source of all those singular shapes, under which the 
gods of the East appear. The Indian makes no 
scruple of giving his gods twenty arms ; the Phrygian 
represents his Diana with as many breasts ; the 
Egyptian gave them the heads of beasts. Different 
as these disfigurations are, they all have their origin 
in this ; the human form was but a subordinate object ; 
the chief aim was a more distinct designation (more 
distinct in the view of the East) of the symbol. 



36 CHAPTER THIRD. 

As the Grecians received most if not all of their 
gods from abroad^ they of course received them as 
symbols of those natural objects and powers ; and the 
farther we look back in the Grecian theogony, the 
more clearly do their gods appear as such beings. 
He who reads with tolerable attention the earlier 
systems as contained in Hesiod, cannot mistake this 
for a moment ; and it cannot be denied; that there 
are traces of it in the gods of Homer. That his 
Jupiter designates the ether, his Juno the atmosphere, 
his Phoebus Apollo the sun, is obvious in many of his 
narrations. But it is equally obvious, that the pre- 
vailing representation with him is not the ancient 
symbolical one, that rather his Jupiter is already the 
ruler of gods and men, his Juno the queen of Olympus. 

This then is the essential peculiarity of the popu- 
lar religion of the Greeks ; they gradually dismissed 
those symbolical representations, and not only dis- 
missed them, but adopted something more human and 
more sublime in their stead. The gods of the Greeks 
were moral persons. 

When we call them moral persons, we do not mean 
to say, that a higher degree of moral purity was at- 
tributed to them, than humanity can attain ; (the 
reverse is well enough known ;) but rather, that the 
whole moral nature of man, with its defects and its 
excellencies, was considered as belonging to them, 
only with the additional notions of superior physical 
force, a more delicately organized system, and a more 
exalted, if not always a more beautiful form. But 
these views became the prevailing ones, the views of 
the people ; and thus an indestructible wall of divis- 
ion was placed between Grecian and foreign gods. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 57 

The former were moral beings ; this was their leading 
character, or rather all their character ; they would 
have been mere names, if this had been taken from 
them ; but with the barbarians, their gods remained 
only personifications of certain objects and powers of 
nature ; and hence neither a moral nature nor char- 
acter belonged to them, although the human shape 
and certain actions and powers were attributed to 
them. 

Having thus illustrated the essential difference 
between the Grecian and foreign gods, and shown in 
what the transformation of the foreign gods, adopt- 
ed by the Grecians, consisted, the question arises, 
how and by what means did that transformation take 
place ? 

By means of poetry and the arts. Poetry was 
the creating power ; the arts confirmed the represen- 
tations which she had called into being, by conferring 
on them visible forms. And here we come to the 
deciding point, from which we must proceed in con- 
tinuing our inquiry. 

'' Whence each of the gods is descended, whether 
they have always existed,'^ says the father of his- 
tory* " and how they were formed, all this the Gre- 
cians have but recently known. Hesiod and Homer, 
whom I do not esteem more than four hundred years 
older than I am, are the poets, who invented for the 
Grecians their theogony, gave the gods their epi- 
thets ; fixed their rank and occupations ; and des- 
cribed their forms. The poets, who are said to have 
lived before these men^ lived; as I believe, after 
them." 

♦ Herod, ii. 53. 

8 



58 CHAPTER TlllllD. 

This remarkable account deserves more careful 
attention. The historian expressly remarks, that this 
is his own presumption, not the assertion of others. 
He may certainly have been mistaken ; but he would 
hardly express himself so explicitly, unless he had 
believed himself warranted to do so. We must 
receive his opinion therefore as the result of such an 
investigation, as could in his age be carried on ; and 
can we do more than he ? 

He names Homer and Hesiod ; and naturally 
understands by them the authors of the poems, which 
already bore their names ; the two great epic poems 
of Homer, and at least the Theogony of Hesiod. The 
case does not become changed, even if those produc- 
tions are, agreeably to a modern opinion, the works of 
several authors. It would only be necessary to say, 
it was the ancient epic poets of the schools of Homer 
and of Hesiod, who formed the divine world of the 
Greeks ; and perhaps this manner of expression is at 
all events the more correct. For it would be difficult 
to doubt that the successors of those poets contributed 
their share. 

According to the assurances of Herodotus, these 
poets were the first to designate the forms of the 
gods ; that is, they attributed to them, not merely the 
human figure, but the human figure in a definite shape. 
They distinguished, moreover, their kindred, their 
descent, their occupations ; they also defined the 
personal relations of each individual ; and therefore 
gave theui the epithets, which were borrowed from all 
this. But if we collect these observations into one, 
they signify nothing less, than that the poets were the 
authors of the popular religion, in so far as this was 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 59 

grounded on definite representations of the several 
divinities. 

This is not intended to imply^ that Homer made 
it his object, to be the creator of a national religion. 
He did but make a poetic use of the previous 
popular belief. But that poetic spirit, which left 
nothing indistinctly delineated in the heroes whose 
deeds he celebrated, bringing before our eyes their 
persons and their characters, effects the same with the 
gods. He invented his divine personages as little as 
he did his heroes ; but he gave their character to the 
one and the other. The circle of his gods is limited 
to a small number. They are inhabitants of Olympus, 
and if they do not all belong to the same family, they 
yet belong to the same place : and they usually live 
together, at least, when that is required by the pur- 
poses of the poet. Under such circumstances, an 
inferior poet might have felt the necessity of giving 
them individuality. And how much more a Homer? 
But that he executed it in so perfect a manner, is to 
be ascribed to the superiority of his genius. 

Thus the popular notions entertained of the gods 
were first established by Homer, and established 
never to be changed. His songs continued to live in 
the mouths of the nation ; and how would it have 
been possible to efface images, which were painted 
with such strokes and colours ? Hesiod is, indeed, 
named with him ; but what are his catalogues of names 
compared with the living forms of Mseonides ? 

In this manner, by means of the epic poets, that 
is, almost exclusively by means of Homer, the gods 
of the Greeks were raised to the rank of moral beings, 
possessed of definite characters. As such they gain- 



60 CHAPTER THIRD. 

ed life in the conceptions of the people ; and however 
much may have been invented respecting them in the 
poetry of a later age, no one was permitted to repre- 
sent them under a figure, or with attributes different 
from those which were consistent with the popular be- 
lief. We soon perceive the various consequences, 
which this must have had on the culture and improve- 
ment of the nation. 

The more a nation conceives its gods to be like 
men, the nearer does it approach them, and the more 
intimately does it live with them. According to the 
earliest views of the Greeks, the gods often wandered 
among them, shared in their business, reqaited them 
with good or ill, in conformity to their reception, and 
especially to the number of presents and sacrifices 
with which they were honoured. In this manner those 
views decided the character of religious worship, 
which received from them, not merely its forms, but 
also its life and meaning. How could this worship 
have received any other than a cheerful, friendly 
character ? The gods were gratified with the same 
pleasures as mortals ; their delights were the same ; 
the gifts which were offered them, w^ere the same 
which please men ; there was a common, a correspon- 
dent enjoyment. With such conceptions, how could 
their holidays have been otherwise than joyous ones? 
And as their joy was expressed by dance and song, 
both of these necessarily became constituent parts of 
their religious festivals. 

It is another question : What influence must such 
a religion have had on the morals of the nation ? The 
gods were by no means represented as pure moral 
beings, but as beings possessed of all human passions 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 61 

and weaknesses. But at the same time the Greeks 
never entertained the idea, that their divinities were 
to be held up as models of virtue ; and hence the 
injury done to morality by such a religion, however 
warmly the philosophers afterwards spoke against it, 
could hardly have been so great, as we with our pre- 
possessions should have at first imagined. If it was 
not declared a duty to become like the gods, no excuse 
for the imitation could be drawn from the faults and 
crimes attributed to them. Besides, these stories were 
esteemed, even by the vulgar, only as poetic inventions, 
and it was little concerned about their truth, or want 
of credibility. There existed, independent of those 
tales, the fear of the gods as higher beings, who on the 
whole desired excellence, and abhorred and sometimes 
punished crime. This punishment was inflicted in 
this world ; for the poets and the people of Greece 
for a long time adopted a belief in no punishment 
beyond the grave, except of those who had been guilty 
of direct blasphemy against, the gods.^ The system 
of morals was on the whole deduced from that fear of 
the gods, but that fear especially produced the obser- 
vance of certain duties, which were of great practical 
importance, as, for example, the inviolable character 
of suppliants (supplices), who stood under the partic- 
ular protection of the gods ; the sanctity of oaths, 
and the like ; of which the violation was also consid- 
ered as a direct crime against the gods. Thus the 
popular religion of the Greeks was no doubt a support 
of morality ; but it never could become so ill the same 

* The reader may here compare an essay of Heeren on the notions enter- 
tained by the Greeks of rewards and punishments after death. It is to b» 
fonod in Berlinisclie Monatsfhrift. May 178&. 



62 CHAPTER THIRB. 

degree as with us. But that its importance was felt 
as a means of bridling the licentiousness of the people^ 
is sufficiently clear from the care which the state took 
during its better days to preserve the popular reli- 
gion, and from the punishments inflicted on those who 
corrupted it or denied its gods. But if the influence 
of the popular religion on the moral character of the 
nation should be differently estimated^ there is less 
room to doubt as to its influence on taste ; for that 
was formed entirely by the popular religion, and con- 
tinued indissolubly united with it. 

By the transformation of the Grecian divinities in- 
to moral agents, an infinite field was opened for poetic 
invention. By becoming human, the gods became 
peculiarly beings for the poets. The muse of the 
moderns has attempted to represent the Supreme 
Being in action: she could do so only by giving him 
as far as possible tbe attributes of men ; with what 
success this has been attended, is known. It was in 
vain to endeavour to deceive us with respect to the 
chasm which lay between our more sublime ideas of 
the Divinity, and the image under which he was 
represented. But the case was altogether diff*erent 
in ancient Greece. The poet was not only allowed 
but compelled to introduce the gods in a manner 
consistent with popular belief, if he would not fail of 
producing the desired effect. The great characteris- 
tics of human nature were expressed in them ; they 
were exhibited as so many definite archetypes. The 
poet might relate of them whatever he pleased, but he 
never was permitted to alter the original characters ; 
whether he celebrated their own actions, or introduced 
them as participating in the exploits of mortals. Al- 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 63 

though themselves immortal, they always preserved 
the human character, and excited a corresponding 
interest ; with their weaknesses and faults, they stood 
nearer to man, than if they had been represented as 
possessing the perfection of moral excellence. 

Thus the popular religion of the Greeks was 
thoroughly poetical. There is no need of a long 
argument to show, that it also decided the character 
of Grecian art, by affording an inexhaustible supply 
of subjects. 

On this point a single remark only needs here be 
made. Among the nations of the East, the plastic 
art not only never created forms of ideal beauty, but 
was rather exercised in producing hideous ones. 
The monstrous figures of their gods, which we have 
already mentioned, are proofs of it. The Grecian 
artist was secure against any thing similar to this, now 
that their gods had become not merely physical, 
but human, moral beings. He never could have 
thought of representing a Jupiter or a Juno with ten 
arms ; he would have destroyed his own work, by 
offending the popular religious notions. Plence he 
was forced to remain true to the pure human figure, 
and was thus brought very near the step, which was 
to raise him still higher, and give ideal beauty to his 
images. That step he would probably liave taken 
without assistance ; but the previous labours of the 
poets made it more natural and more easy. Phidias 
found in Homer the idea of his Olympian Jupiter, and 
the most sul)lime image in human shape, which time 
has spared us, the Apollo of the Vatican, may be 
traced to the same origin. 



64 CHAPTER THIRD. 

Beside the popular religion, Greece possessed also 
a religion of the initiated, preserved in the mysteries. 
Whatever we may think of these institutions, and 
whatever idea we may form of them, no one can doubt 
that they were religious ones. They must then have 
necessarily stood in a certain relation to the religion 
of the people ; but w^e shall not be able to explain with 
any degree of probability, the nature of that relation, 
until we trace them to their origin. 

We must preface this inquiry with a general re- 
mark. All the mysteries of the Greeks, as far as wx are 
acquainted with them, were introduced from abroad ; 
and we can still point out the origin of most of them. 
Ceres had long wandered over the earth, before she 
was received at Eleusis, and erected there her sanc- 
tuary.* Her secret service in the Thesmophoria, 
according to the account of Herodotus,t was first 
introduced by Danaus, who brought it from Egypt to 
the Peloponnesus. Whether the sacred rites of Or- 
pheus and Bacchus originally belonged to the Thra- 
cians or the Egyptians, they certainly came from 
abroad. Those of the Curetes and the Dactyli had 
their home in Crete. 

It has often been said, that these institutions in 
Greece sufiered, in the progress of time, many and 
great alterations, that they commonly degenerated, or 
to speak more correctly, that the Grecians accommo- 
dated them to themselves. It was not possible for 
them to preserve among the Greeks the same charac- 
ter, which they had among other nations. And here 
we are induced to ask : What were they originally ? 

•Isocrat. Taaeg. op. p. 46. ed. Stepli. a.id many other ^jlaces in Meursii 
Eleusin. cuj). i. t Herod, iv. 172. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 65 

How were they introduced and preserved in Greece ? 
And what relation did they bear to the popular 
religion ? 

The answer to these questions is contained in the 
remarks which we have already made on the transforma- 
tion and appropriation of foreign gods by the Hellenes. 
Most of those gods, if not all of them, were received 
as symbolical, physical beings; the poets made of them 
moral agents ; and as such they make their appear- 
ance in the religion of the people. 

The symbolical meaning would have been lost, if 
no means had been provided to ensure its preserva- 
tion. The mysteries, it seems, afforded such means. 
Their great end therefore was, to preserve the knowl- 
edge of the peculiar attributes of those divinities, 
which had been incorporated into the popular religion 
under new forms ; what powers and objects of nature 
they represented ; how these, and how the universe 
came into being ; in a v^^ord, cosmogonies, like those 
contained in the Orphic instructions. But this 
knowledge, though it was preserved by oral instruc- 
tion, was perpetuated no less by symbolic represen- 
tations and usages ; w hich, at least in part, consisted 
of those sacred traditions and fables, of which we 
have already made mention. " In the sanctuary of 
Sais,'' says Herodotus, '-' representations are given by 
night of the adventures of the goddess ; and these 
are called by the Egyptians mysteries ; of which, 
however, 1 will relate no more. It was from thence, 
that these mysteries were introduced into Greece.'^* 
If we find in this the chief design of the mysteries, 
we would by no means assert, that this was the only 

♦Herod. 1. c. 

9 



66 CHAPTER THIRD. 

one. For who does not perceive how much may be 
connected with it? With the progress of time a 
greater variety of representations may have arisen 
in the mysteries ; their original meaning might per- 
haps be gradually and entirely lost ; and another be 
introduced in its stead.* 

Those passages may therefore be very easily ex- 
plained, which import that the mysteries, as has been 
particularly asserted of those of Eleusis, exhibited 
the superiority of civilized over savage life, and gave 
instructions respecting a future life and its nature. 
For what was this more than an interpretation of the 
sacred traditions, which were told of the goddess as 
the instructress in agriculture, of the forced descent of 
her daughter to the lower world, &lc. ? And we need 
not be more astonished, if in some of their sacred rites 
wx perceive an excitement carried to a degree of 
enthusiastic madness, which belonged peculiarly to 
the East, but which the Hellenes were very willing 
to receive. For we must not neglect to bear in mind 

* The investigation respecting the mysteries is a very extensive one, and 
yet very little has thus far been ascertained, as may be seen from the very 
valuable work of St. Croix, especially in the German translation : Versuch 
Uber die alien Myslerien, translated by Lcnz, 1790. I refer to this book for 
the necessary citations. It does not belong to the political historian to pur- 
sue this investigation any farther; he must leave it to the student of the his- 
tory of religions. Yet two remarks may here be permitted. First: Homer 
and Hcsiod say nothing of mysteries ; which may very possibly have been 
older than those poets, but are thus ]>rovcd to have had in their time less 
importance than they afterwards gained. And this is immediately explained, 
so soon as the proper object of the mysteries is discovered, by making 
the difterence between the popular religion, as modified by the poets, and 
the more ancient physical religion of the East. Secondly : The mysteries 
introduced from Crete, are said to have constituted the public w'orship of the 
Cretans. It was in Greece then, that they first came to be mysteries. This 
too can hardly be more naturally explained, than by the departure of the 
popular religion, as established by the poets, from the other more ancient 
one. 



ORIGINA.L SOURCES OF CULTURE. 67 

that they shared the spirit of the East ; and did they 
not live on the very boundary line between the East 
and the West? As those institutions were propagat- 
ed farther to the west, they lost their original char- 
acter. We know what the Bacchanalian rites became 
at Rome ; and had they been introduced north of 
the Alps, what form would they have there assum- 
ed ? But to those countries, it was possible to trans- 
plant the vine, not the service of the god, to whom 
the vine w^as sacred. The orgies of Bacchus suited 
the cold soil and inclement forests of the North, as 
little as the character of its inhabitants. 

The secret doctrines which were taught in the 
mysteries, may have finally degenerated into mere 
forms and an unmeaning ritual. And yet the mysteries 
exercised a great influence on the spirit of the nation, 
not of the initiated only, but also of the great mass of 
the people ; and perhaps they influenced the latter 
still more than the former. They preserved the 
reverence for sacred things ; and this gave them their 
political importance. They produced that effect 
better than any modern secret societies have been able 
to do. The mysteries had their secrets, but not every 
thing connected with them w^as secret. They had, 
like those of Eleusis, their public festivals, processions, 
and pilgrimages ; in which none but the initiated took 
a part, but of which no one was prohibited from being 
a spectator. Whilst the multitude was permitted to 
gaze at them, it learned to believe, that there was 
something sublimer than any thing with which it was 
acquainted, revealed only to the initiated; and while 
the worth of that sublimer knowledge did not consist 
in secrecy alone, it did not lose any of its value by- 
being concealed. 



68 CHAPTER THIRD. 

Thus the popular religion and the secret doctrines, 
although always distinguished from each other, united 
in serving to curb the people. The condition, and 
the influence of religion on a nation, are always closely- 
connected with the situation of those persons, who are 
particularly appointed for the service of the gods, 
the priests. The regulations of the Greeks concern- 
ing them, deserve the more attention, since many 
unimportant subjects of Grecian antiquities have been 
treated with an almost disproportionate expense of 
industry and erudition ; but with respect to the 
priesthood of the nation, we are as yet left without 
any investigation, corresponding to the importance of 
the subject. The very abundance of matter renders 
it the more difficult, for very little can be expressed 
in general terms ; and many changes were brought 
about by time. 

During the heroic age, we learn of Homer, that 
there were priests, who seem to have devoted them- 
selves exclusively to that vocation. We readily call 
to mind a Calchas, a Chryses, and others. But even 
in that age, such priests appear but seldom ; and it 
does not appear, that their influence over the rest of 
the people was very great and important. The 
sacred rites in honour of the gods, were not performed 
by them alone ; they were not even needed at the 
public solemnities. The leaders and commanders 
themselves offer their sacrifices,* perform the pray- 
ers, and observe the signs which indicated the result 
of an undertaking. In a word, kings and leaders 
were at the same time priests. 

♦ Instead of all other passages, see the description of the sacrifices. 
which Nestor makes to Pallas. Od. iii. 430, etc 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 69 

Traces of these very ancient regulations were 
preserved for a long time among the Greeks. The 
second Archon at Athens, who presided at the public 
ceremonies of worship, was called the king because he 
had to prepare the sacred rites, which were formerly 
regulated by the kings. He had his assistants ; and 
it was necessary for his spouse to be of irreproacha- 
ble character, as she also had secret religious services 
to perform. He was, however, like the other A rchons, 
annually appointed, and the election was made by lot.* 
The priests and priestesses of the several divinities 
were for the most part chosen. But the priestesses 
could be married, and the priests seem by no means 
to have been excluded by their station from partici- 
pating in the offices and occupations of citizens. 
There were some sacerdotal offices, which were 
hereditary in certain families. But the number of 
them seems to have been but inconsiderable. In 
Athens, the Eumolpidae possessed the privilege, that 
the hierophant, or first director of the Eleusinian 
rites, as well as the other three,f should be taken 
from their family. But the place of hierophant 
could not be obtained except by a person of advanced 
years ; and those other offices were probably not 
occupied during life, but frequently assigned anew. J 
How far the same vvas true in other cases, is but sel- 
dom related. At Delphi, the first of the oracles of 
the Hellenes, the Pythian priestess was chosen from 

♦See the important passage in Demosthenes, in Neaer. Op ii. p. 1370 
ed. Reisk. 

t The Daduchus, or torch-bearer ; the Hieroceiyx, or sacred herald ; and 
the Epibomius, who served at the altar. 

t St. Croix has collected examples in his Essay on the ancient Mysteries, 
»it the 130th page of the German translation. 



70 CHAPTER THIRD. 

among the women of the city ;* and was obliged 
to have no intercourse with men. It is hardly- 
probable from the extreme exertions connected with 
the delivery of oracles, that the same person could 
long fill the place. Here, as elsewhere, people were 
appointed for the service without the temple, some of 
whom, like the Ion of Euripides, belonged to the god 
or the temple, and were even educated within its 
limits. But the service within the temple was per- 
formed by the most considerable citizens of Delphi, 
who were chosen by lot.f The sanctuary of Dodona, 
where the responses of the oracle were made, as at 
Delphi and in other temples, by priestesses, seems 
to have belonged to the family of the Seili, of which 
Homer had heard ;J but we have no particular ac- 
counts respecting the situation of that family. 

The regulations respecting priests, proposed by- 
Plato in his books on laws,^ show most clearly, that 
the ideas of the Greeks required, that the offices of 
priests should not long be filled by the same persons. 
" Let the election of the priests,'' says he, " be com- 
mitted to the god, by referring the appointment to 
lot ; those on whom the lot falls, must submit to au 
examination. But each priesthood shall be filled for 
one year, and no longer by the same person ; he who 
fills it, may not be less than sixty years old. The 
same rules shall apply to the priestesses.*' 

*Eiiri|)i(l. Ion, v. 1320. 

t See llie imporlant passage in Eiiripid. Ion, 414: *'I," says Ion, speaking 
to the foreigner on the service of the temple, " I have cliarge only of the 
outer |)art ; the interior belongs to tlicm who sit near the tripod, the first of 
the Delphians, whom the lot selected.' 

- X II- XV. 235. 

§ Plato, de Leg. 1. vi. Op. viii. p. 266. Bip. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 71 

We infer from all this, that, though the regulations 
respecting the priesthood were not the same in all 
parts of Greece, that office was commonly filled for a 
limited time only, was regarded as a place of honour, 
to which, as to the other mysteries, appointments 
were made by lot, with an examination, and was sub- 
jected to the same rotation with the rest. They to 
whom it was entrusted, were taken from the class of 
active citizens, to which they again returned ; and 
even w^hilst they were priests, they were by no means 
withdrawn from the regular business of civil life.* 
The priesthood did not gain even that degree of firm- 
ness, which it had at Rome ; where the priests, though 
they were not separated from secular pursuits, formed 
separate colleges, like those of the Pontifices and 
Augurs ; and the members of them were chosen for 
life. Since the priesthood then, among the Hellenes in 
general, and in the several states, never formed a distinct 
order, it could not possess the spirit of a party, and it 
was quite impossible for any thing like priestcraft to 
prevail. Religion and public acts of worship were so 
far considered holy and inviolable, that they were 
protected by the state ; and that a degree of intoler- 
ance was produced, which led even to injustice and 
cruelty. But we do not find, that the priests were 
peculiarly active in such cases. It was the people 
which believed itself injured; or a political party; 
or individual demagogues, who had some particular 
object in view.f 

* Not even from the duties of war. The Daduchus Callias fought at the 
battle of Marat lioii in his costume as a priest. 

t Consult above every thing else, the oration of Atidocidcs on the 
profanation of the mysteries, delivered on occasion of the well known 
accusation of Alcibiades and his friends. Did we not know that a political 



72 CHAPTER THIRD. 

As the priests of the Greeks formed no distinct class 
in society, it is evident, that they could have no such 
secret system of instructions, as was possessed by 
those of Egypt. No such system can therefore be 
contrasted with the popular religion ; instead of it 
there were the mysteries ; but the initiated were 
not all of them priests, nor was it necessary for every 
priest to be initiated into the mysteries. Any could 
be admitted to them, whose condition in life, and 
behaviour, were found to deserve the distinction. 

These regulations led to important consequences. 
There was in the nation no separate class, which 
claimed an exclusive right to certain branches of 
scientific and intellectual culture ; and preserved that 
exclusive right by means of written characters, intelli- 
gible only to themselves. That which should be the 
common property and is the noblest common property 
of humanity, was such among the Greeks. And this 
made it possible, to unfold with free iom the spirit 
of philosophy. The oldest philosophy of the Greeks, 
as it appeared at first in the Ionic school, may have 
originally stood in close union with religion, and may 
indeed have proceeded from it ; for who does not 
perceive the near connexion between speculations on 
the elements of things, and those ancient represen- 
tations of the gods as powers or objects of nature. But 
religion could not long hold philosophy in chains. It 
could not prevent the spirit of free inquiry from 
awakening and gaining strength ; and hence it was 

parly was active in (iiat atlair, it would lianlly seem intclligihle to us. It 
gives a rt'inarkahlc jtroof ol the ease, witli wliicli the passions of the Atheni- 
ans might be aroused, when any attack was made on the things they deemed 
sacred. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTUllE. 73 

possible for all those sciences, which are promoted by 
that spirit, to assume among the Greeks a decided 
and peculiar character. In the intellectual culture 
of the East, all scientific knowledge is connected with 
religion; but as these were kept separate by the 
Greeks, science gained among them that independent 
character, which distinguishes the West, and which 
was communicated to the nations of whom the Greeks 
were the instructers. 

As the priests never formed a distinct order, and still 
less a cast, in Greece, the religion never became a reli- 
gion of state to the extent in which it did in other coun- 
tries. She was sometimes subservient to public policy, 
but never became its slave. The dry, prosaic religion of 
the Romans could be used or abused to such purposes ; 
but that of the Greeks was much too poetical. The 
former seems to have existed only for the sake of the 
state ; and the latter, even when it was useful to the 
state, appears to have rendered none but voluntary 
services. The Patricians confined the popular religion 
of Rome within the strict limits of a system ; but in 
Greece, religion preserved its freedom of character. 



Colonists from Abroad, 

The race of the Hellenes was always the prevalent 
one in Greece ; but it was by no means unmixed. 
The superior advantages of the country invited for- 
eign emigrations, and its situation facilitated them. 
Many nations of Thracian, Carian, and lllyrian 
origin, descended at different times from the North 
10 



74 CHAPTER THIRD. 

by land.* These colonists, at least such as remained 
in the country, may by degrees have been amalgamated 
witli the Hellenes ; but, being themselves barbarians, 
they could not have contributed much towards soften- 
ing the manners of the nation ; although the poets of 
Thrace were not without influence on them. The 
case was far different with those who came by sea. 
Greece, as we observed in a former chapter,! was 
surrounded at no great distance by the most ( ultivated 
nations of the western world, which nations were 
more or less devoted to commerce and the founding 
of colonies. This is well known to have been the 
character of the Phoenicians, and it is equally certain 
that it was so of the inhabitants of Asia Minor ; and 
traces of Egyptian colonies are found no less in Europe, 
than in iVsia. 

If no accounts had been preserved of colonies of 
those nations, emigrating to Greece, they would of 
themselves have seemed highly probable. But we 
are so far from being without accounts of this kind, 
that they have been much more accurately preserved, 
than the remoteness of the time and the condition of 
the nation would have authorized us to expect. The 
memory of them could not become extinct, for their 
consequences were too lasting ; and if events which 
for so long a time were preserved by nothing but 
tradition, are differently related and sometimes highly 
coloured, the critical student of history can hardly 
make any valid objections against their general truth. 
The first of the foreign colonies, which are mentioned 
as having arrived by sea, is that, which under the 

* Their names arc for the iiiDst part mentioned ly Stiabo, 1. vii. p. 222. 
Casaiib. 

t Compare the close of chapter 1st. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 75 

direction of Cecrops, carne from Sais in Lower Egypt 
to Attica ;^ fifty years later, Danaus led his colony 
from Chemmis in Upper Egypt, to Argos in the 
Peloponnesus. These emigrations took place at the 
period, in which, according to the most probable 
chronological reckoning, the great revolutions in Egypt 
were effected by the expulsion of the Arabian noma- 
des ; and the kingdom was restored to its liberty and 
independence ; a period, in which emigrations were 
at least not improbable. The colony, which, as 
Herodotus relates, was brought by Cadmus, together 
with the alphabet, from Phcenicia to Greece,! needs 
no farther proof, when we learn how extensive 
were the colonies of that nation ; we are only aston- 
ished, that we hear of but one in Greece ; since the 
common course of things would rather lead us to 
expect a continued emigration, such as took place in 
the islands, which became almost entirely Phoenician. 
Nor should we forget the establishment, made by 
Pelops of Lydia in the peninsula which bears his 
name. J That also was occasioned by the events of 
war. Tantalus, the father of Pelops, having been 
driven from Lydia by Ilus, king of Troy, sought and 
found in Argos a place of refuge for himself and his 
treasures. 

Yet very different answers have been given to the 
question ; what influence had the emigration of those 
foreign colonists on the culture of the Greeks ? And 
more have denied than have conceded, that such an 
influence was exerted. Where cultivated nations 
make establishments in the vicinity of barbarians, it 

♦This is supposed to have taken place about 1550 years before Christ, 
t Herod, v. 58. X Strabo. p. 222. 



76 CHAPTER THIRD. 

would be wrong to infer directly the civilization of 
the latter, unless it be conJBrmed by distinct evidence. 
The aborigines of America have been for more than 
two centuries the immediate neighbours of civilized 
Europeans, and yet how little have they adopted of 
them? And if doubts were entertained in the case 
of the Greeks, it was chiefly because their whole 
national culture was so remarkably different from that 
of those Eastern nations, that the former could hardly 
seem much indebted to the latter. 

Yet the testimony of the Greeks themselves proves 
such an influence too clearly to be doubted. Cecrops 
is expressly mentioned, as having first established 
domestic union among the inhabitants of Attica, by 
the introduction of regular marriages ; and as having 
built the citadel which afterwards bore his name. 
The same is true of the citadel, which Cadmus built in 
Thebes ; and if we interpret the account of Herodotus 
respecting the introduction of the alphabet by him, 
to mean only, that the Hellenes were indebted for it 
to the Phoenicians (which on the whole can hardly 
be doubted), the case would not be changed. And if 
Pelops not only emigrated to Argos with his treas- 
ures, but gave his name to the peninsula, the facts 
admit of no other interpretation than that his emi- 
gration was productive of the most important con- 
sequences. 

But farther. These foreigners not only became 
princes themselves, but made the royal power hered- 
itary in their families. The earliest kings of Attica, 
Pandion, ^Egeus, Theseus, were all descended from 
the house of Cecrops, although only by the female 
side. Perseus and his heroic family sprung in like 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 77 

manner from the family of Danaus. When we name 
Cadmus, we remember at the same time his descend- 
ants, the favourites of the tragic muse, Lai us, (Edipus, 
Eteocles, and Polynlces. But the posterity of Pelops, 
the house of Atrides, excelled all the rest in fame as 
in misfortunes. In this manner the traditional history 
of the nation is principally dependent on these fami- 
lies from abroad : they were not only the oldest 
rulers, but the memory of them continued to live in 
the mouths of the people from age to age ; till the 
tragic poets conferred on them immortality. It is 
impossible that such a continued dominion of those 
families should have had no influence on the nation. 
To assert it would be to assert what is inconsistent 
with the natural progress of things. 

If these emigrations seem to have been occasioned 
by political causes, others had their origin in religion. 
In modern times the savage nature of barbarians 
has been tamed by missions 5 but although antiquity 
knew and could know none such, the early part of 
our present inquiries proves, that political and mer- 
cantile ends were none the less connected with sanc- 
tuaries and oracles. Greece received its colonies of 
priests ; by which we mean the establishments of 
sanctuaries by foreigners, who brought with them 
their own peculiar forms of worship. The Homeric 
hymn to Apollo afibrds a remarkable proof, that such 
institutions were entirely in the spirit of the ancient 
Grecian world. When the Pythian god was estab- 
lishing his oracle at Delphi, he beheld on the sea a 
merchant-ship from Crete ; this he directs to Crissa^ 
and appoints the foreigners the servants of his newly- 
established sanctuary, near which they settled and 



78 CHAPTER THIRD, 

abode.* When this story, which we would not 
affirm to be historically true, is stripped of the lan- 
guage of poetry, it can only mean, that a Cretan 
colony founded the temple and oracle of Delphi. 
And the account given by Herodotus of the Egyptian 
origin of the oracle of Dodona, ceases to surprise 
us,f although that oracle owes its establishment to 
another cause, the Phoenician slave-trade, by means 
of which two consecrated women were carried, the 
one to Ammonium in Lybia, the other to Dodona. 
If we knew more certainly who the Selli were, who 
are thought to have been a branch of the Ptlasgi, and 
are said by HomerJ to have been the servants of the 
god, and in possession of the oracle, we should prob- 
ably be able to say more than we now can respectino; 
its history. That it was of Egyptian origin, is 
acknowledged not only by the sacred traditions of 
Dodona, but also by those of Egypt. It was impossi- 
ble for these settlements to assume in Greece the 
aspect, which they took in Africa. The character 
of the country and the spirit of the people were alike 
opposed to it ; for though the popular religion in 
Greece was not wholly unconnected with politics, the 
state, having never as in Egypt been founded entirely 
upon religion, never made a temple its central point. 
But those settlements continued as oracles, of which 
the Greek stood in need both in public and private 
life. 

Similar sacred institutions arose very early on 
several of the islands round Greece, and were trans- 
planted from them to the continent. Those of Crete 
and Samothrace were the most important. The first 

■ Ilomcr. Hymn, in Apoll. 390, etc. f Herod, ii.54. t'l- xvi. 234. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 79 

of these islands occupies, in many points of view, a 
very important place in the most ancient history of 
Grecian culture ; but the culture, which sprung yp in 
Crete, seems rather to have produced early blossoms 
than later fruits. All that we know of the glory of 
Crete, belongs to the age of Homer and the preceding 
times.* The period in which they cleared the sea 
of robbers ; exercised supremacy over the islands, and 
a pan of the country on the shore, even of Attica ; 
and received their laws from Minos, the familiar friend 
of Jove, belongs to so remote an age, that it affords 
less room for certainty than for conjecture. But Crete 
still appears in Homer so flourishing, that hardly a 
country on the continent could be compared with it.f 
The situation of this large island can alone serve to 
explain, how it came to precede Hellas in culture. 
It lay at almost equal distances from Egypt, Phoenicia, 
and Greece. If it was, as we are told, the country of 
brass and iron, and if these metals were first manufac- 
tured there,J the obscurity which covered the oldest 
tradition, is at once removed. Nothing more is need- 
ed to explain the emigrations to that island, made by 
the Pelasgi, Egyptians, Phoenicians, Hellenes, and 
others.^ The use of these metals must have led to 
various inventions. The commerce carried on with 
them, made the extirpation of piracy necessary. And 
it was very natural that these inventions, ascribed to 
the gods, should give rise to many a pious supersti- 

* See the rich compilation of Meursius : Crete, Cyprus, Rhodes. 167-3. 
+ Crete awes the circling naves, a fruitful soil, 
And ninety cities crown the sea-born isle. 

Od. xix. 172, &.C. in Pope 196 &c. 
\ The most important passage is in Diodor. v. p. 338. Wechel. 
§ They are chronologically enumerated by Diodor. v. p. 346. 



80 CHAPTER THIRD. 

tioiij which occasioned sacred customs and mystenes^ 
like those ascribed to the Curetes and Id«an Dacty- 
li.* The abundance of brass, and the use of the 
same in manufactures, as seen in the heroic age, give 
evidence, that this art must have been very ancient 
and very important. We have the authority of 
Strabo, that this invention was unanimously ascribed 
to the Cretans ;t although the traditions respecting 
ancient Crete were in other respects very various^ 
traditions, which had probably afforded subjects to 
many poets, before they were committed to writing 
by the Cretan historians, to whom Diodorus refers. 
We are expressly told by the ancients, that the 
invention and manufacturing of brass stood in imme- 
diate connexion with the religious institutions in that 
island, when the Curetes and Dactyli on mount Ida 
are mentioned, and the manufacturing of brass and 
iron, the preparation of arms, and the war-dances are 
attributed to them ; all which were transplanted from 
thence to Phrygia, to the islands of Lemnos and 
Samothrace, and from thence by way of Thrace to 
Greece. J No branch of the Grecian religious history 
is more entangled with others, than this of the Cretan 
religious institutions ; and this confusion has been 
increased in part by accidental causes.^ Criticism 
has done all that it could :|| but Strabo, even in his 
time, found it impossible to disentangle the confused 
accounts respecting the Curetes, Dactyli, and Cory- 

* Diod. p. 333. t Strabo, x. p. 32o. 

I See Strabo and Diodor. 1. c. etc. 

§ As for instance, the circumstance, that several mountains bore the 
name of Ida. 

II See Creuzer's Symbolik. b. ii. s. 227, and Heyne in Commentat. S. G, 
Tol. viii. 



ORIGINAL SOURCES OF CULTURE. 81 

bantes. But that the whole web is woven of Egyp- 
tian, Phoenician, Pelasgic^and Phrygian threads, can be 
as little denied, as the emigrations of those and other 
nations to Crete. Should some modern Theseus 
venture to descend into this labyrinth, we wish he 
may find the thread of Ariadne in the history of the 
discovery and manufacturing of the baser metals and 
their general diffusion, on which the arts of war and 
peace equally depended ; not in order to cement every 
thing with this, and so to frame an imperfect hypoth- 
esis from but one view of the subject ; but only to show 
us more distinctly the way, in which the Greeks ar- 
rived at that point of culture, at which we shall see 
them in the following chapter. 



11 



82 CHAPTER FOURTH. 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 



THE HEROIC AGE; THE TROJAN WAR. 

Although the history of the progress of the 
Greek nation during the early period of its culture, 
is imperfect and fragmentary^ the progress itself is 
certain. In the age which we best designate in the 
spirit of the nation by the name of the Heroic Age, 
and which extends from about the thirteenth to the 
eleventh century before the christian era, we find them 
possessed of a far higher degree of civilization, than 
that of which by their own accounts they were pos- 
sessed before. The poet who delineates them in that 
stage is never untrue to the poetic character ; and 
yet Homer was regarded even by the ancients as of 
historical authority ; and, to a certain point, deserved 
to be so regarded. Truth was his object in his ac- 
counts and descriptions, as far as it can be the object 
of a poet, and even in a greater degree than was 
necessary, when he distinguishes the earlier and 
later times or ages. He is the best source of infor- 
mation respecting the heroic age ; and since that 
source pours so copiously, there is no need of drawing 
from any other. 

When we compare the Greeks of Homer with 
those of later ages, we immediately perceive a 
remarkable difference, to which we must at once direct 
our attention. His Greeks, to whatever tribe they 
belong, are all equal in point of culture. With him, 



I 






THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 83 

the Thessalian differs in nothing from the inhabitant 
of the Peloponnesus, nor the iEtolian from the Boeo- 
tian and Athenian; the sole points of difference 
which he marks, are merely personal; or at most 
result from the greater or smaller extent of the several 
territories. Hence we infer, that the causes which 
afterwards gave the inliabitants of the eastern part 
of Hellas so great an advantage over those of the 
west, had not then begun to operate. There 
must rather have been some causes of general influ- 
ence, to produce that early progress ; and there- 
fore we have less reason to fear that we were mis- 
taken in assigning the first place among them to 
religion. 

Yet religion had no influence in exciting and 
developing that he^'oic spirit, w^hich is the character- 
istic of the age. In those later centuries of the mid- 
dle age which embrace the christian heroic age, a 
devotional spirit formed a prominent feature in the 
character of a chevalier ; but nothing like this is to 
be found among the Greeks. The Grecian heroes 
always preserve a belief in the gods ; are intimately 
and directly united with them ; are sometimes perse- 
cuted and sometimes protected by them ; but they 
do not fight for their religion, like the christian 
knights. Such an idea could never occur to them ; 
for their representations of their gods did not admit 
of it. And here we remark one great point of differ- 
ence between the Grecian and christian heroic char- 
acter. A second, to which we shall return directly, 
results^'from the different condition of the other sex. 
But another prominent trait is common to both ; the 
propensity to extraordinary and bold undertakings^ 



84 CHAPTER FOUftTH. 

not only at home, but in foreign lands, in countries 
beyond the sea, and of which tradition had, for the 
most part, spread none but indistinct accounts. This 
propensity was first awakened by the early emigra- 
tions of the Hellenes. But the exploits of the oldest 
heroes among the Greeks, Meleager, Tydeus, and 
others, before Hercules and Jason, were performed at 
home ; and even those which are said to have been 
performed by Hercules out of Greece, are probably 
a later fiction, invented at the time when his name 
was first added to the number of the Argonauts, and 
the Grecian Hercules was confounded with the Phoe- 
nician. Adventures in foreign regions begin with 
Jason and the Argonautic expedition : and those 
adventures were destined soon to end in a general 
union of the nation for the purpose of carrying on a 
war beyond the sea. 

As far as we can judge amidst the uncertainty of 
the chronology of that period, this adventurous spirit 
appears to have been awakened in the century 
immediately preceding the Trojan war. According 
to all possible chronological combinations, we must 
refer to this period the expedition of the Argonauts 
and the undertaking of Theseus against Crete ; which 
events happened soon after the don\inion of the sea 
had been gained for that island by Minos. The gen- 
eral condition of Greece in that period explains> in 
some measure, why the limits of that country began 
to grow too narrow, and a new theatre for the display 
of enterprise to be sought for. The whole of Greece 
previous to the Trojan war, appears to have enjoyed 
perfect tranquillity within its own boundaries. The 
limits of the small districts into which Greece was divid- 



THE heuoic age ; the trojan war. 85 

ed, seem already to have been definitively established. 
We hear of no contention respecting them on the 
part of the princes; and Homer was able to enume- 
rate the several possessions with precision. The 
war of the seven against Thebes had its origin in 
family discord ; and the claims of the exiled Hera- 
clidse were not made valid till a more recent age. It 
was on the whole an age of internal peace, notwith- 
standing some interruptions. In such an age there 
was little opportunity for heroic exploits at home ; 
and what was more natural than that the warlike 
spirit which was once roused, should go in quest of 
them abroad ? 

But such was the situation of the country, that 
this could take place only by sea. There was in the 
North, notbing which could invite the spirit of enter- 
prise ; and the country in that direction was possessed 
by warlike nations. On th'e other hand, the reports 
which came to the Greeks respecting the land beyond 
the sea, were numerous ; even though they may have 
been brought by none but the Phoenicians. The 
countries and nations which were the chief objects of 
the voyages of that commercial people, the Cimmeri- 
ans in the North, the Lotophagi, and the gardens of 
the Hesperides on the coast of Lybia ; Sicily with its 
wonders, the Cyclops, and Scylla and Char) bdis ; 
and even Spain with the mighty Geryon and the 
pillars of Hercules, are dimly seen in the earliest 
Grecian mythology. These traditions did much 
towards awakening the spirit of adventure, and thus 
occasioned the Argonautic expedition. 

These early voyages, by which so much activity 
was awakened, and so much energy called into 



86 CHAPTER FOURTH. 

action, were the chief means by which the circle of 
ideas in the nation was enlarged. This is obvious 
from those ancient mythological tales, which were 
thus introduced, and which were the fruit of the in- 
creased intercourse with foreign countries.-. The 
geography of Homer, limited as it is, not only extends 
far beyond the bounds of his native land ; but shows a 
manifest desire of discovering the farthest limits of the 
earth. The ocean stream which flowed round it, is 
mentioned ; the regions are named, in which the sun 
has the gates of its rising and setting ; even the 
entrance to the lower world is known. The obscurity 
in which all this was veiled, served but to excite the 
adventurous spirit, which was once aroused, to new 
undertakings. 

The internal political condition of Greece in the 
heroic age was in one respect similar to that of a 
later period ; and in another essentially different. It 
was similar in the division into small territories : but 
it was altogether different in the constitutions of the 
states. 

The division into territories, a result of the 
variety of the tribes, was in those times as great, or 
perhaps greater than in more recent ones. The 
district of Thessaly alone contained, in Homers time, 
no less than ten small states, each of which had its 
prince or leader. In the central part of Greece, the 
Boeotians had five principalities,* the Minyes, whose 
capital was Orchomenus, the Locrians,! the Atheni- 

♦II ii. jralaloj:. nav. 1. kc. wlierc aliio the passages may be found^ 
which servi' iis proofs of the following slatcnienls. 

fThe Opuntii anil EpicnemUiii. Homer makes no mention of the Ozo- 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 87 

ans, the Phocians, had each their own ruler. In the 
Peloponnesus, there existed, independent of each other, 
the kingdoms of Argos, of MycensBj of Sparta, of 
Pylus, that of the Elians, divided under four heads, 
and Arcadia. Many of the islands also had their 
own princes. On the west side, the government of 
Ulysses embraced, beside Ithaca, the islands Zacynthus 
and Cephallene, and Epirus which lies over against 
it. The flourishing island of Crete was swayed by 
Idomeneus ; Salamis by Ajax ; Euboea, inhabited by 
the Abantes, Rhodes, and Cos had their own rulers; 
-^gina and probably others of the small islands 
belonged to the neighbouring princes. 

This political division was therefore from the 
earliest times a peculiarity of Greece ; and it never 
ceased to be so. And here it is natural to ask, how^ 
it could have continued so long ? How happened it, 
that amidst the early civil wars, and especially the later 
superiority of the Doric tribe, the supremacy of an 
individual state was never established ? One princi- 
pal cause of this is to be found in the natural geo- 
graphical divisions of the country, which we have 
described in a former chapter ; another, no less impor- 
tant, seems to lie in the internal division of the sever- 
al tribes. Even where those of the same tribe made 
their settlements, they were immediately split into sep- 
arate townships. According to these, the troops of sol- 
diers are distinguished in Homer. Proofs of it are 
found in all parts of his poems, especially in the cata- 
logue of the ships. If these townships stood under one 
common head, they were still united only by a feeble 
bond. The germ of division was deeply fixed even 
in those earlier times ; and as it unfolded, it was 



I 



88 CHAPTER FOURTH. 

destined to mature the whole subsequent political cou- 
dition of Greece. 

Yet though the divisions of the country were then 
as numerous, the forms of government in those early 
times were entirely different from the later ones. 
We meet with no governments but those of princes 
or kings ; there were then no republics ; and yet re- 
publicanism was eventually to decide the political 
character of Greece. These monarchical constitutions^ 
if that name may be applied to them, were rather 
the outlines of constitutions than regular, finished 
forms of government. They were a consequence of 
the most ancient condition of the nation, when either 
ruling families sprung up in the several tribes : or 
the leaders of foreign colonies had known how to 
secure to themselves and their posterity the govern- 
ment of those who originally belonged to the country. 
The families of Peleus, Cadmus, Pelops, and others, 
have already been mentioned. It was a great re- 
commendation of the later rulers, to be able to trace 
their lineage to one of the ancient heroes or gods ; 
and Alexander himself sought the confirmation of his 
own descent from the temple of Amnion. But though 
much depended on descent, we learn from observ- 
ing those ancient families, that it was not only neces- 
sary that the founder of the family should be a 
hero, but, if its elevation was to be perserved, that 
many heroes like him should arise among his posteri- 
ty. For this the houses of Pelops and Cadmus were 
the most illustrious. But only certain branches of 
the family of Hercules, the first of Grecian heroes, 
were remembered by the nation, while others passed 
into oblivion. The Greeks paid respect to birth, 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 89 

yet they never attributed every thing to birth ; and if 
in those republican times, the noble families were 
preserved distinct from the rest, their superiority 
depended seldom on birth alone ; and no line was 
drawn between them and the rest of the people, such 
as divided the Patricians from the Plebeians in the 
early period of Roman history. The correct judg- 
ment of the Greeks is observable in this, as in so many 
other things. The respect for their illustrious fami- 
lies was continued in the recollection of their actions ; 
but the descendants were not long permitted to live 
on the fame of their forefathers. 

The constitutions of the heroic age were the result 
of circumstances, and wants w hicli were felt. Esteem 
for the ruling families secured to them the govern- 
ment ; but their power was not strictly hereditary. 
Princes were not much more than the first amongst 
their equals ; or even the latter were also denominat- 
ed princes.* The son had commonly the precedence 
over others in the succession ; but his claim was 
measured by his personal qualifications for the sta- 
tion.f It was his first duty to lead in war ; and he 
could not do this, unless he was himself distinguished 
for courage and strength. His privileges in peace 
were not great. He called together the popular 
assembly, which was chiefly, if not exclusively, com- 
posed of the older and more distinguished citizens.J 
Here the king had his own seat ; the ensign of his 
dignity was a sceptre or staff. He had the right of 

* As, in Od. viii. 41. the sKntrouxot (iainXms of Ithaca, 
f Observe the descrij)(ioii ot the situai.ou ot 'lelemachus in this respect. 
Odyss. i. 392, 

t Compare the description of the assembly of Phajacians. Odyss. viii. 

12 



90 CHAPTER FOURTH. 

addressing the assembly, which was done standing. In 
all important events he was bound to consult the peo- 
ple. In addition to this he sometimes acted as judge ;* 
but not always : for the administration of justice was 
often committed to an assembly of the elders.f Noth- 
ing was known of particular taxes paid to the king. 
His superiority consisted in a piece of land, and a 
larger part of the booty. Excepting this he derived 
his support from his own possessions and the produce 
of his fields and herds. The preservation of his 
dignity required an almost unbounded hospitality. 
His house was the place of assembly for persons of 
the upper class, who almost always sat at table with 
him ; to turn away strangers, who asked for shelter, 
or only seemed to stand in need of it, would have been 
an unexampled outrage. J 

Greece, even in those times, was a thickly peopled 
and well cultivated country. What a crowd of cities 
is enumerated by the poet! And we must not imag- 
ine these to have been open towns with scattered 
habitations. The epithets applied to them frequent- 
ly prove the reverse. They are in part surrounded 
with walls; have gates and regular streets.^ Yet 
the houses stand by themselves ; having in front a 
court, and in the rear a garden. || Such at least 

• Aristot. Polit. iii. 14. Ir^xrr.ye; ya.^ n* la.) 'hiKXffTri* o (^atrtXivi, *«< 

t bee e. g. tin- representation on the shield of Achille!!. II. xviii. 504. 

\ How warmly Menelaus reproaches Eteoneus for proposing to send the 
strangprs ssomewhere else. Od. iv.31. 

§ E. g. Alliens with broad streets (li^veiyvia') . Oil. vii. 8. Gortys with 
firm walls (^Tu^ioiffrci) -, and others. 

H i U js ibe palace of Menelaus, Od. ii. ; and of Alcinous, Od. vii. Others 
on the street, II. xviii. 496. 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 91 

were the houses of the most respectable. Others 
appear to stand directly on the street without any 
court in front. In the middle of the city there is a 
public square or marketplace ; the common place of 
assembly for the citizens, whether on solemn occasions, 
or for deliberation, or courts of justice, or any other 
purpose. It is surrounded with seats of stone, on 
which the distinguished men are wont on such occa- 
sions to take their places.^ No trace is to be found 
of any pavement in the streets. 

The different branches of agriculture were already 
well advanced. Property in lands was universal ; of 
which the boundaries were fixed by measurement, 
and often designated by stones.f The poet describes 
to us the various labours of farming, ploughing, 
w^hether with oxen or mules, sowing, reaping, binding 
the sheaves, and treading out the corn by oxen on 
the threshing-floor. Nor does he omit to mention the 
culture of the grape, the tilling of gardens, and the 
various duties of the herdsman. J It may be doubted 
whether the soil was much better cultivated in the 
most flourishing period of Grecian history. 

The houses of the heroes were large and spacious, 
and at the same time suited to the climate. The 
court was surrounded by a gallery, round which the 
bedchambers were built. The entrance from the 
court to the hall was direct, which was the common 
place of resort.^ Moveable seats {^oovot) stood along 

•The city of the Phaeacians, Od, vii. gives proof of all this. 

til. xii. 421 xxi. 405. 

i I need only call to mind the representations on the shield of Achilles. 
II. xviii. 540, &ic. 

§ The abovementioned mansions of Menelaus and Alcinous best illus- 
trate this style of architecture ; although the description of the mansion of 
Ulysses is in some parts more minute. 



02 CHAPTER FOURTH. 

the sides of the walls. Every thing glistened with 
brass. On one side was a place of deposit, where the 
arms were kept. In the back ground was the hearth, 
and the seat for the lady of the mansion, when she 
made her appearance below. Several steps conduct- 
ed from thence to a higher gallery, near which 
were the chambers of the women, where they were 
employed in household labours, especially in weav- 
ing. Several outhouses for the purpose of grind- 
ing and baking, were connected with the house ; oth- 
ers for the common habitations of the male and female 
slaves; and also stables for the horses.* The stalls 
for cattle were commonly in the fields. 

Astonishment is excited by the abundance of met- 
als, both of the precious and baser ones, with which 
the mansions were adorned, and of which the house- 
hold utensils were made. f The walls glittered with 
them ; the seats were made of them. Water for 
washing was presented in golden ewers on silver 
salvers ; the benches, arms, utensils were ornamented 
with them. Even if we suppose that much, called 
golden, was only gilded, we still have reason to ask, 
whence this wealth in precious metals ? Homer gives 
us a hint respecting the silver, when he speaks of it 
as belonging to Alybe, in the land of the Halizones.J 
Most of the gold probably came from Lydia, where 
this metal in later times was so abundant, that the 
Greeks were for the most part supplied with all they 
used from that country. As there was no coined 

♦Thus with Menclaus, Od. iv. 40, 

t Above all in the mansion of Menelaus, 

t n. i'. Cataloc:. v. 364. Without doubt in the Caucasian chain of 
mounlaiasi even thougU the Ilalizoues and the Chalybes should not be th« 
same. 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 93 

moneyj* and as the metals were in consequence used 
in commerce as means of exchange, the njanufacturing 
of them seems to have been one of the chief branches 
of mechanic industry. Proofs of this are found in the 
preparation of arms and utensils. We need but call 
to mind the shield of Achilles, the torch-bearing 
statues in the house of Alcinous,t the enameled figures 
on the clasp of Ulysses' mantle, J Sec. But it is diffi- 
cult to say, how far these manufactures were made by 
the Greeks, or gained by exchange from abroad. As 
the poet commonly describes them to be the works of 
Vulcan, it is at least clear, that manufactures of this 
kind were somewhat rare, and in part foreign.^ Gold 
was afterwards wrought in Asia Minor, especially in 
Lydia ; all labour in brass and iron seems, as we 
remarked above, to have been first brought to perfec- 
tion among the Hellenes in Crete. 

These labours in metal appear to have limited 
the early progress of the plastic arts. We find no 
traces of painting, and none of marble statues. But 
those efforts in metal imply exercise in drawing ; for 
we hear not only of figures, but also of expression in 
their positions and motions. || 

The art of weaving, the chief occupation of the 
women, was even then carried to a high degree of 
perfection. The stuffs were of wool and linen ; it is 
hard to decide how far cotton was in those times 

♦This was probably one of the chief reasons why so much of it was 
manufactured. 

t Od. vii. 100. I Od. xix. 225, Lc. 

§ As e. g. the silver goblet received by Menelaus from the king of Sidon. 
Od. iv. 615. 

tl Beside the description of the shield of Achilles, note especially Od. 
xix. 228, ete. 



94 



CHAPTER FOURTH. 



manufactured in Greece.* Yet garments of foreign 
manufacture, those of Egypt and Sidon, were esteemed 
the most beautiful. f The dress was decent, but free. 
The female sex were by no means accustomed to con- 
ceal the countenance, but were clad in long robes ; 
both sexes wore an under garment, over which the 
broad upper garment was thrown. J 

The internal regultUions of families were simple, 
but not without those peculiarities, which are a natu- 
ral consequence of the introduction of slavery. Po- 
lygamy was not directly authorized ; but the sanctity 
of marriage was not considered as violated by the 
intercourse of the husband with female slaves. The 
noble characters of Andromache and of Penelope, 
exhibit, each in its way, models of elevated conjugal 
affection. It is more difficult for us, with our feelings, 
to understand the seduced and the returning Helen ; 
and yet if we compare Helen, the beloved of Paris in 
the Iliad,^ with Helen, the spouse of Menelaus in the 
Odyssey,|| we find truth and much internal harmony in 
the character wiiich could err, but not become wholly 
untrue to nobleness of feeling. It is a woman, who, 
having become in youth the victim of sensuality, (and 
never without emotions of regret,) returned afterwards 
to reason ; before she was compelled to do so by age. 
Even after her return from Troy, she was still exceed- 
ingly beautiful;^ (for w!.o can think of counting her 

* Compare, above all, the description of Achilles' clothing, Od. xix, 225, 
&c. The mantle (;^Xa<va% rough to the touch, was without doubt of wool ; but 
ihe under garment (;^;;<t«i;v) can hardly pass for either woollen or liueu. 
l-ine hs a filmy \\el> heneatli it shone 
A vest, that dazzled like a cloudless sun. 
f As e. g. II vi. 2<)0. 

J The pussai^es are collected in Feithii Ant. Homer, iii. cap. 7. 
§ In the Uiiid book. || Odyss. iv. aud xv. U Odyss. iv. 121. 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 95 

years ?) And yet even then the two sexes stood to 
each other in the same relation, which continued in 
later times. The wife is housewife^ and nothing more. 
Even the suhlime Andromache, after that parting, 
which will draw tears, as long as there are eyes which 
can weep and hearts which can feel, is sent back to 
the apartments of the women, to superintend the 
labours of the maidservants.* Still we observe in 
her, conjugal love of an elevated character. In other 
instances love has reference, both with mortals and 
with immortals, to sensual enjoyment ; although in the 
noble and uncorrupted vestal characters, as in the 
amiable Nausicaa, it was united with that bashfulness, 
which accompanies maiden youth. But we meet with 
no trace of those elevated feelings, that romantic love, 
as it is very improperly termed, which results from a 
higher regard for the female sex. That love, and 
that regard are traits peculiar to the Germanic nations, 
a result of the spirit of gallantry which was a lead- 
ing feature in the character of chivalry, but which we 
Vciinly look for in Greece. Yet here the Greek stands 
between the East and the West. Although he was 
never wont to revere the female sex as beings of a 
higher order, he did not, like the Asiatic, imprison 
them by troops in a haram. 

The progress which had been made in social life, is 
visible in nothing more distinctly, except the relative 
situation of the sexes, than in the tone of conversation 
among men. A solemn dignity belonged to it even in 
common intercourse ; the style of salutation and 
address is connected with certain forms ; J:hc epithets 
with which the heroes honoured each other, were so 

♦II. vi. 490. 



96 CHAPTER FOURTH. 

adopted into the language of intercourse, that thej 
are not unfrequently applied, even where the language 
of reproach is used. Let it not be said, that this is 
merely the language of epic poetry. The poet never 
could have employed it, if its original, and a taste for 
it, had not already existed. If the tone of intercourse 
is a measure of the social and, in a certain degree, of 
the moral improvement of a nation, the Greeks of the 
heroic age were already vastly elevated beyond their 
earlier savage state. 

To complete the picture of those times, it is ne- 
cessary to speak of war and the art of war. The 
heroic age of the Greeks, considered from this point 
of view, exhibits a mixture of savageness and magna- 
nimity, and the first outlines of the laws of nations. 
The enemy who has been slain, is not secure against 
outrage, and yet the corpse is not always abused.^ 
The conquered party offers a ransom ; and it depends 
on the victor to accept or refuse it. The arms, both 
of attack and defence, are of iron or brass. No 
hero appeared, like Hercules of old, with a club and 
lion's skin for spear and shield. The art of war, as 
far as it relates to the position and erecting of forti- 
fied camps, seems to have been first invented in the 
siege of Troy.f In other respects, every thing 
depended on the more or less perfect equipments, 
together with personal courage and strength. As the 
great multitude was, for the most part, without defen- 
sive armour, and as only a few were completely 
accoutred, one of these last outweighed a host of the 
rest. But only the leaders were thus armed; and 

•An example, 11. vi. 417. 

t See on Ibis subject, on wbicb we believe we may be brief, the Excur* 
sus of Heyue to the vi. vii. and viii. books of Ibe Iliad. 



THE HEROIC AGE ; THE TROJAN WAR. 97 

they, standing on their chariots of war (for cavalry 
was still unknown), fought with each other in the 
space between the armies. If they were victorious, 
they spread panic before them ; and it became e^^ 
for them to break through the ranks. But we will 
pursue no farther the description of scenes, which 
every one prefers to read in the poet himself. 

As the crusades were the fruit of the revolution 
in the social condition of the West, the Trojan war 
resulted from the same causes in Greece. It was ne- 
cessary, that a fondness for adventures in foreign 
lands should 'e awakened; expeditions by sea, 
like that of the Argonauts, be attended with suc- 
cess ; and a union of the heroes, as in that and the 
march against Thebes, be first established ; before 
such an undertaking could become practicable. But 
now it resulted so naturally from the whole condition 
of things, that, though its object might have been a 
different one, it must have taken place even without a 
Helen. 

The expedition against Troy, like the crusades, 
was a voluntary undertaking on the part of those 
who joined in it ; and this circumstance had an influ- 
ence on all the internal regulations. The leaders of 
the several bands were voluntary followers of the 
Atridse, and could therefore depart from the army at 
their own pleasure. It is more difficult to ^x on the 
relation between the leaders and their people ; and 
he who should undertake to describe every thing 
minutely, would be most sure of making mistakes. 
There were certainly control and obedience. The 
troops follow their leaders, and leave the battle with 
them. But much even of this seems to have been 
13 



98 CHAPTEU FOURTH. 

voluntary ; and the spirit of the age allowed no such 
severe discipline as exists in modern armies. None 
but a Thersites could have received the treatment of 
Thersites. 

This undertaking, begun and successfully termi- 
nated by united exertions, kindled the national spirit 
of the Hellenes. On the fields of Asia, the tribes had 
for the first time been assembled^ for the first time had 
saluted each other as brethren. They had fought and 
had conquered in company. Yet something was still 
wanting to preserve the flame, which was just blazing 
up. The assistance of the muse was needed, to com- 
memorate in words those events of which the echo 
will never die away. By preserving the memory of 
them forever, the most beautiful fruits which they 
bore were saved from perishing. 



THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEftOIC AGE. 99 



CHAPTER FIFTH, 



THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. EMIGRATIONS. 
ORIGIN OF REPUBLICAN FORMS OF GOVERNMENT, AND 
THEIR CHARACTER. 

Like the age of chivalry in western Europe, the 
heroic age of the Greeks began and ended without 
our being able to define either period by an exact 
date. Such a phenomenon is the fruit of causes 
which are rooted deeply and of continuing influence, 
and it neither suddenly ripens nor suddenly decays. 
The heroic age was not immediately terminated by the 
Trojan war ; yet it was during that period in its 
greatest glory.* It was closely united with the polit- 
ical constitution of the times ; the princes of the tribes 
were the first of the heroes. When the constitution of 
the tribes was changed, the ancient heroic world could 
not continue. No new undertaking was be^un, which 
was so splendidly executed and closed. Although, 
therefore, heroic characters may still have arisen, as 
in the times of Achilles and Agamemnon, no similar 
career of honour was opened to them ; they were not 
celebrated in song like the AtridsB and their compan- 
ions ; and though they may have gained the praise 
of their contemporaries, they did not live, like the 
latter, in the memory of succeeding generations. 

In the age succeeding the Trojan war, several 
events took place, which prepared and introduced an 

♦Hesiod limits his fourth age, the age of heroes, to the times immedi- 
ately befor* and after the Trojan war. Op. et Dies 156, kc. 



100 CHAPTEU 1 IFTlt. 

entire revolution in the domestic and still more in 
public life of the Greeks. The result of these revo- 
lutions was the origin and general prevalence of re- 
publican forms of government among them ; and this 
decided the whole future character of their public life 
as a nation. 

It is still possible for us to show the general causes 
of this great change ; but when we remember that 
these events took place before Greece had produced a 
historian, and when tradition was the only authority, 
we give up all expectation of gaining perfect and 
unbroken historical accounts ; and acknowledge that 
we can hardly know more of them than Thucydides. 

The emigration of the tribes, says this historian,* 
was by no means at an end with the Trojan war. The 
continuance of the war produced many changes ; in 
many cities disturbances were excited, which occa- 
sioned the banished parties to found new cities. The 
Boeotians, driven from Arne in Thessaly, took posses- 
sion of their country in the sixtieth year after the fall 
of Troy ; in the eightieth, the Dorians, led on by the 
Heraclidoe, conquered the Peloponnesus. And we have 
already observed, what great revolutions were produc- 
ed by this last event. A new tribe, till then the 
weaker, was extended and became the more powerful. 
But still greater clianges were to come ; the race of 
the Hellenes were destined to extend on the east and 
west, far beyond the limits of their ancient country. 
*' When Greece,'' continues Thucydides, •* after a long 
interval, at length became composed, and assumed a 
firmer appearance, it scut out colonics ; Athens, to 
Ionia in Asia Minor, and to a great part of the islands 

♦Tbucyd. i. 12 



THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 101 

of the Archipelago; the Peloponnesians, chiefly to Italy 
and Sicily ; all which settlements were not made till 
after the Trojan times.'' 

The views of the nation could not hut be enlarged 
by the Trojan war. It had become acquainted with 
the coasts of Asia, those lands so highly favoured by 
nature ; and the recollection of tiicm never died away. 
When the new internal storms followed, and almost all 
the tribes of the Hellenes were driven from their 
places of abode, it is not remarkable that the coasts 
of Asia should have attracted the emigrating par- 
ties. Since the downfall of Troy, no new king- 
dom had been established there ; no nation of the 
country was strong enough to prohibit the settle- 
ment of the foreigners. Thus, in the course of 
not more than a century,* the western coast of 
Asia Minor was occupied by a chain of Grecian cities, 
extending from the Hellespont to the boundary of 
Cilicia. ^olians, conducted by the descendants of 
the fallen house of the Atridse, established their 
residence in the vicinity of the ruins of Troy, on the 
coast of Mysia, in the most fruitful region known to 
those timesjf and on the opposite island of Lesbos ; on 
the continent they built twelve cities, and on Lesbos 
Mitylene, which now gives a name to the whole is- 
land. Smyrna, the only one which has preserved 
a part of its splendor, and Cyme, exceeded all the 
rest on the main land. ^Eolis was bounded on the 
south by Ionia, a region so called from the twelve 
Ionian cities, which were built by the lonians, who 
had been expelled from their ancient country. They 

* In a period subsequent to the year 1 130 before Christ, 
t Herod, i. 149. 



102 CllAPTEK FIFTH. 

also occupied the neighbouring islands Chios and 
Samos. If ^olis could boast of superior fertility, the 
Ionian sky was celebrated with the Greeks as the 
mildest and most delightful. *^ Of these cities, Miletus, 
Ephesus, and Phocsea became flourishing commercial 
towns ; the mothers of many daughters, extending 
from the shores of the Black sea and lake Mseotis, to 
the coasts of Gaul and Iberia. Neither were the 
Dorians content with their conquest of the Pelopon- 
nesus ; troops of them thronged to Asia ; Cos, and 
the wealthy Rhodes, as well as the cities Halicar- 
nassus and Cnidus, were peopled by them. In this 
manner, as the series of cities planted by the Grecians 
ascended the Macedonian and Thracian coast to By- 
zantium, the iEgean sea was encircled with Grecian 
colonies, and its islands were covered with them. 
But the mother country seems soon to have been filled 
again ; and as the east offered no more room, the 
emigrants wandered to the west. At a somewhat 
later period, but with hardly less success, the coasts 
of Lower Italy, which soon took the name of Magna 
Grsecia, and those of Sicily, were occupied by Dorians, 
Achseans, and lonians.f On the gulf of Tarentum, 
not only the city of that name, but Croton and Sybaris 
soon rose to a degree of population and wealth, bor- 
dering on the fabulous ; whilst the chain of towns 
extended by way of Rhegium and Paestum as far as 
Cumac and Naples. These colonial towns were still 
more frequent on the coasts of Sicily, from Messana 
and the unrivalled Syracuse to the proud Agrigen- 

♦Heroil. I. 142. 

t F.specially between the years SOO and 700 before the Christian era. 
Vet single colonics were earlier established. 



THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 103 

turn. And in the now desolate Barca, on the coast 
of Lybia, Cyrene flourished with the towns of which 
it was the metropolis, and proved that Greeks remain- 
ed true to their origin even in Africa. 

We reserve for another chapter the consideration 
of the flourishing condition and various consequences 
of their colonies. But whilst the world of the Greeks 
and their circle of vision were thus enlarged, it was 
not possible for their political condition to remain 
unchanged. Freedom ripens in colonies. Ancient 
usage cannot be preserved, cannot altogether be 
renewed, as at home. The former bonds of attach- 
ment to the soil and ancient customs, were broken by 
the voyage ; the spirit felt itself to be more free in the 
new country ; new strength was required for the 
necessary exertions ; and those exertions were ani- 
mated by success. Where every man lives by tlie 
labour of his hands, equality arises, even if it did not 
exist before. Each day is fraught with new experi- 
ence ; the necessity of common defence is more felt in 
lands where the new settlers find ancient inhabitants 
desirous of being free from them. Need we wonder, 
then, if the authority of the founders, even where it 
had originally subsisted, soon gave way to liberty ? 

Similar phenomena are observable in the mother 
country. The annihilation of so many of the ruling 
houses in the Trojan war and its immediate conse- 
quences would have produced them even without 
internal storms. How then could the ancient order of 
things be restored, after so great revolutions and such 
changes in the residence of nearly all the tribes. The 
heroic age disappeared ; and with it the supremacy 
of the princes : and when heroes came forward, like 



104 CHAPTER FIFTH. 

Aristomeiies, they resemble adventurers rather than 
the sublime figures of Homer. On the other hand, 
the intercourse and trade with the colonies were con- 
tinued on all sides ; for, according to the Grecian cus- 
tom, the mother country and her colonies were never 
strangers to each other ; and the former soon had a 
lesson to learn of the latter. 

A new order things was the necessary conse- 
quence. The ancient ruling families died away of 
themselves, or lost their power. But this did not 
take place in all or most of the Grecian cities at one 
time, but very gradually ; and he who should speak 
of a general political revolution in the modern phrase, 
would excite altogether erroneous conceptions. As 
far as we can judge from the imperfect accounts which 
remain of the history of the individual states, more 
than a century elapsed before the change was com- 
plete. We cannot fix the period of it in all of them ; 
it happened in most of them between the years 900 and 
700 before Christ, in others in the two centuries imme- 
diately after the Doric emigration. In several, as in 
Athens, it was brought about by degrees. In that 
city, when the royal dignity was abolished at the 
death of Codrus,* archons, differing little from kings, 
were appointed from his family for life ; these were 
followed by archons chosen for ten years ;t and 
these last continued for seventy years, till the yearly 
election of a college of archons set the seal tD democ- 
racy. 

The fruit of these changes was the establishment 
of free constitutions for the cities ; which constitutions 
could prosper only with the increasing prosperity of 

*In tlie year 1068 before Christ. f In the year 752 before Christ. 



THE PERIOD FOLLOWING THE HEROIC AGE. 105 

the towns. Thucydides has described to us in an 
admirable manner, how this happened. '' In those 
times," says he,^ '^ no important war, which could 
give a great ascendency to individual states, was 
carried on ; the wars which chanced to arise, were 
only with the nearest neighbours.'' Though tran- 
quillity may thus have sometimes been interrupted, 
the increase of the cities could not be retard- 
ed. " But since colonies were established beyond 
the sea, several of the cities began to apply themselves 
to navigation and commerce ; and the intercourse, 
kept up with them afforded mutual advantages.! The 
cities,'' continues Thucydides, '^ became more powerful 
and more wealthy; but then usurpers arose in most 
of them, who sought only to confirm their own power, 
and enrich their own families ; but performed no great 
exploits ; until they were overthrown, not long before 
the Persian wars, by the Spartans (who, amidst all 
those storms, were never subjected to tyrants) and 
the Athenians.''^ 

The essential character of the new political form 
assumed by Greece, consisted therefore in the cir- 
cumstance, that the free states which were formed, 
were nothing but cities with their districts, and their 
constitutions were consequently only forms of city 
government. This point of view must never be lost 
sight of. The districts into which Greece was divided, 
did not form, as such, so many states ; but the same 
often contained many states, if it possessed several 
independent cities ; though a whole district some- 

♦Thucyd. i. 15. fThucyd. i. 13. 

X For the counterpart to the narration of Thucydides, we need only call 
fo mind the history of the Italian cities, towards the end of the aiiddl« age. 

14 



106 CHAPTER FIFTH. 

times formed the territory of but one city, as Attica 
of Athens, Laconia of Sparta, etc. and in such a case 
formed of course but one state. But it might easily 
happen, that the cities of one district, especially if 
their inhabitants were of kindred tribes, formed allian- 
ces for mutual safety ; as the twelve Achaean cities 
had done. But these alliances had reference only to 
foreign relations ; and thus they formed a confedera- 
tion of cities, but not one state ; for each individual 
city had its own internal constitution, and managed 
its own concerns. It might also happen, that some 
one of the cities, on becoming powerful, should claim 
the sovereignty over the rest; as Thebes over the 
Boeotian cities. But however far such a superior 
rank might lead ; it was intended by the Greeks, not 
only that each state should preserve its internal 
liberty ; but that its submission should be voluntary ; 
although the claims of a supreme city occasionally led 
to compulsory measures. When Thebes usurped the 
first rank in Bceotia, Platseae would never acknowledge 
its sovereignty. The consequences of it are known 
from history. 

The w^hole political life of the nation was thus 
connected with cities and their constitutions ; and no 
one can judge of Grecian history with accuracy, unless 
he comprehends the spirit of them. The strength of 
such cities seems to be very limited ; but the history 
of the world abounds in examples, which show how 
far beyond expectation they can rise. They are ani- 
mated by public spirit, resulting from civil prosperity; 
and the force of that spirit can be expressed in no 
statistical tables. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 107 



CHAPTER SIXTH. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 



The heroic age was past, before the poets, who 
celebrated it, arose. It produced some contemporary 
with itself; but their fame was eclipsed by those who 
came after them, and were it not for Homer, the names 
of Demodocus and Phemius had never become im- 
mortal. 

With the Greeks, epic poetry had an importance, 
which it possessed among no other people ; it was 
the source of their national education in poetry and 
the arts. It became so by means of the Homeric 
poems. But boundless as was the genius of the 
Ionian bard, a concurrence of favourable circumstan- 
ces was still needed, to prepare for his appearance, 
and to make it possible. 

Epic poetry was of itself a fruit of the heroic 
age ; just as the poetry of chivalry was the result 
of the age of chivalry. The picture drawn for us 
by Homer of the heroic times, leaves no room to 
doift)t of it. The feasts of the heroes, like the ban- 
quets of the knights, where ornamented with song. 
But the more copious the stream is to which it swel- 
led, the more does it deserve to be traced, as far as 
it is possible, to its origin. 

Even before the heroic age, we hear of several 
poets, of Orpheus, Linus, and a few others. But if 
their hymns were merely invocations and eulogies of 
the gods, as we must infer from the accounts which 



108 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

are handed down to us respecting them,^ no similarity 
seems to have existed between them and the subse- 
quent heroic poetry ; although a transition not only 
became possible^ but actually took place, when the 
actions of the gods were made the subjects of hymns. f 
The heroic poetry, according to all that we know 
of it, preserved the character of narration ; whether 
those narrations contained accounts of the gods or of 
heroes ;J " the actions of gods and heroes, who 
were celebrated in song." In the songs ofDemodo- 
cus and Phemius, the subject is taken from the one 
and from the other ; he celebrates the loves of Mars 
and Venus, 5 no less than the adventures which took 
place before Troy. The latter class of subjects 
cannot be more ancient than the heroic age, even 
though we should esteem the former as much older. 
But that age produced the class of bards, who were 
employed in celebrating the actions of the heroes. 
They formed a separate class in society ; but they 
stood on an equal footing with the heroes, and are 
considered as belonging to them.|| The gift of song 
came to them from the gods ; it is the Muse, or Jove 
himself, who inspires them and teaches them what 
they should sing.H As this representation continu- 
ally recurs, it is probable, that their poetic effusfons 
were often extemporaneous. At least this seems in 

* Our present Orpliic hymns have this character The more ancient ones, 
if there were such, were nothing else. See Pausanias ix. p. 770 ; and the 
very ancient hymn, preserved by Stobajus. Stob. Eclog. i. p. 40 in Heeren's 
edition. 

tThe proof of this is found in the hymns attributed to Homer. 

X Odyss. i. 338. § Odyss. viii. 266, &:c. 

II OJ. viii. 483. Demodocus himself is here called Heros. 

U Od. viii. 73, i. 348. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. i09 

many cases hardly to admit of a doubt. Ulysses 
proposes to Demodocus the subject of his song ;* and 
the bard, like the modern improvisator!, commences 
his strains under the influence of the sudden inspira- 
tion. We would by no means be understood to assert, 
that there were none but extemporaneous productions. 
Certain songs very naturally became favourites, and 
were kept alive in the mouths of the poets ; whilst an 
infinite number, which were but the offspring of the 
moment, died away at their birth. But an abundance 
of songs was needed ; a variety was required, and the 
charm of novelty even then enforced its claims. f 

For novel lays attract our ravished ears ; 
But old the mind with inattention hears. 

The voice was ahvays accompanied by some instru- 
ment. The bard was provided with a harp, on which 
he played a prelude,^ to elevate and inspire his mind, 
and with which he accompanied the song when begun. 
His voice probably preserved a medium between 
singing and recitation ; the words, and not the melody, 
were regarded by the listeners ; hence it was necessa- 
ry for him to remain intelligible to all. In countries 
where nothing similar is found, it is diflicult to repre- 
sent such scenes to the mind ; but whoever has had an 
opportunity of listening to the improvisatori of Italy, 
can easily form an idea of Demodocus and Phemius. 
However imperfect our ideas of the earliest heroic 
songs may remain after all which the poet has told 
us, the following positions may be inferred from it. 
First : The singers were at the same time poets ; they 
sang their own works ; there is no trace of their having 

*0d. viii. 492, etc a leading passage. f Od. i. 352. 

^ eivxQaXXtriai. od. viii. 266, &c. 



110 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

sung those of others. Farther : Their songs were 
poured forth from the inspiration of the moment; or 
only reposed in their memory. In the former case, they 
were, in the full sense of the word, improvisatori ; and, 
in the latter, they must necessarily have remained in 
some measure improvisatori, for they lived in an age, 
whirh, even if it possessed the alphabet, seems never 
to have thought of committing poems to writing. The 
epic poetry of the Greeks did not continue to be mere 
extemporaneous effusions ; but it seems to us very 
probable, that such was its origin. Lastly : Although 
the song was sometimes accompanied by a dance 
illustrative of its subject, imi^tive gestures are never 
attributed to the bard himself. There are dancers 
for that. Epic poetry and the ballet can thus be 
united : but the union was not essential, and probably 
took place only in the histories concerning the gods.*^ 
This union was very natural. Under the southern 
skies of Europe, no proper melody is required for the 
imitative dance, it is only necessary that the time 
should be distinctly marked. When the bard did this 
with his lyre, the dancers, as well as himself, had all 
that they required. 

This heroic poetry, which was so closely interwov- 
en with so( ial life, that it could be spared at no cheer- 
ing banquet, was common no doubt throughout all 
Hellas. \Vc hear its strains in the island of the 
Phseacians, no less than in the dwellings of Ulysses 
and Manelaus. The poet does not bring before us 
strict contests in sung ; but we may Icciin, that the 
spirit of emulation was strong, and that some believed 
themselves already perfect in their art, from the story 

♦ As in llic story of llic amour of Mars and V cnus. Od. viii. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. Ill 

of the Thracian Thamyris, who wished to contend with 
the muses, and was punished for his daring by the 
loss of the light of his eyes, and the art of song.* 

Epic poetry emigrated with the colonies to the 
shores of Asia. When we remember, that those 
settlements were made during the heroic age, and that 
in part the sons and posterity of the princes, in whose 
halls at Argos and Mycenae its echoes had formerly 
been heard, were the leaders of those expeditions,! 
this will hardly seem doubtful and still less im- 
probable. 

Biit that epic poetry should have first displayed 
its full glory in those regions, and should have raised 
itself to the sublimity and extent which it obtained ; 
was more than could have been expected. 

And yet it was so. Homer appeared. The his- 
tory of the poet and his works is lost in doubtful 
obscurity ; as is the history of many of the first minds 
who have done honour to humanity, because they 
arose amidst darkness. The majestic stream of his 
song, blessing and fertilizing, flows like the Nile 
through many lands and nations ; like the sources of 
the Nile, its fountains will remain concealed. 

It cannot be the object of these essays, to enter 
anew into these investigations, which probably have 
already been carried as far as the present state of 
criticism and learning will admit.J Tiie modern 
inquirers can hardly be reproached with credulity, 
for nothing, which could be doubted, not even the 
existence of Homer himself, has been left unquestioned. 

♦II. Cat. Nav. 102. t As Orestes and his descendants. 

X It is hardly necessary to refer to the Excursus of lleyne, on the las< 
book of the Iliad, and the Prolegomena of Wolf. 



1 15J GHAPTER SIXTH. 

When once the rotten fabric of ancient belief was 
examined, no one of the pillars, on which it rested, 
could escape inspection. The general result was, 
that the whole building rested far more on the foun- 
dation of tradition, than of credible history ; but how 
far this foundation is secure, is a question, respecting 
which, the voices will hardly be able to unite. 

It seems of chief importance to expect no more 
than the nature of things makes possible. If the 
period of tradition in history is the region of twilight, 
we should not expect in it perfect light. The crea- 
tions of genius remain always half miracles, because 
they are, for the most part, created far from the 
reach of observation. If we were in possession of all 
the historic testimonies, we never could wholly explain 
the origin of the Iliad and the Odyssey; for their origin, 
in all essential points, must have remained the secret 
of the poet. But we can, to a certain extent, explain 
hovv,under the circumstances of those times, an epic poet 
could arise ; how he could elevate his mind ; and how 
he could become of such importance to his nation and 
to posterity. This is all to which our inquiry should 
be directed. 

The age of Homer, according to all probability, 
was that in which the Ionian colonies flourished in 
the vigour of youth.* Their subsequent condition 
shows that this must have been so ; although history 
has not preserved for us any particular account on 
the subject. It is easy to conceive, that in a country 

*Tlip n»c of Homer is usually set about a century after the foundation of 
those colonies, about the year i)oO before Christ. If it he true, that Lycur- 
gus, whose hiws were given about the year 880, introduced bis poems into 
Sparta, he cannot be much younger. We must leave to others the prosecu- 
tion of these inquiries;. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 113 

highly favoured by nature ; external circumstances 
could afford the poet many facilities, by means of the 
forms of social life, of which song was the companion. 
But the circumstances of the times afforded many 
greater advantages to poetic genius. 

The glimmerings of tradition were not yet depart- 
ed. The expedition against Troy, and the efforts of 
the earlier poets, had rather contributed so to mature 
the traditions, that they offered the noblest subjects for 
national poems. Before that time, the heroes of the 
several tribes had been of importance to none but their 
tribe ; but those who were distinguished in the com- 
mon undertaking against Troy, became heroes of the 
nation. Their actions and their sufferings awakened 
a general interest. Add to this, that these actions 
and adventures had already been celebrated by many 
of the early bards ; and that they had even then 
imparted to the whole of history the poetic character, 
which distinguished it. Time is always needed to 
mature tradition for the epic poet. The songs of a 
Phemius and aDemodocus, though the subjects of them 
were taken from that war, were but the first essays, 
which died away, as the ancient songs have done, in 
which the exploits of the crusaders were commemorat- 
ed. It was not till three hundred years after the 
loss of the Holy Land, that the poet appeared who 
was to celebrate the glory of Godfrey, in a manner 
worthy of the hero ; more time had perhaps passed 
after Achilles and Hector fell in battle, before the 
Grecian poet secured to them their immortality. 

The language no less tlian the subject had been 
improved in tliis age. Although neither all its words 
nor its phrases were limited in their use by strict 
15 



114 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

grammatuial rules, it was by no means awkward or 
rough. It had for centuries been improved by the 
poets, and had now become a poetic language. It al- 
most seemed more easy to make use of it in verse than 
in prose; and the forms of the hexameter, of which 
alone the epic poet made use, are extren ely sim- 
ple.* The language voluntarily submitted to the 
poet, and there never was a tongue, in which inspira- 
tion could have poured itself forth with more readi- 
ness and ease. 

Under such circumstances it is intelligible, that 
when a sublime poetic genius arose among a people 
so fond of poetry and song as the lonians always were, 
the age was favourable to him ; although the elevated 
creations of his mind must continue to appear won- 
derful. There are two things, which in modern times 
appear most remarkable and difficult of explanation ; 
how a poet could have first conceived the idea of so 
extensive a whole, as the Iliad and the Odyssey ; and 
how he could have composed them, how he could have 
executed works of such extent, and how those works 
could have been preserved, without the aid of 
writing. 

With regard to the first point, criticism has en- 
deavoured to show, and has succeeded in showing, 
that these poems, especially the Iliad, possess by no 
means that perfect unity, which they were formerly 
believed to possess ; that rather many whole pieces 
have been interpolated or annexed to them ; and there 
hardly exists at present an inquiring scholar, who can 

♦ How much easier it must have been lo make extemporaneous verses 
in that measure, than in tlie otiava rima of the Italians. And yet the Italian 
wears its shackles with the greatest ease. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 115 

persuade himself, that we possess them both in the 
same state, in which they came from the hands of the 
poet. But notwithstanding the more or less frequent 
interpolations, each has but one primary action ; 
which, although it is interrupted by frequent episodes, 
could hardly have been introduced by any but the 
original author ; and which does not permit us to 
consider either of these poems as a mere collection 
of scattered rhapsodies. It is certainly a gigantic 
step, to raise epic poetry to the unity of the chief 
action ; but the idea springs from the very nature of 
a narration ; and therefore it did not stand in need of 
a theory, which was foreign to the age ; genius was 
able of itself to take this step.* Herodotus did 
something similar in the department of history. 

We find it still more difficult to comprehend how 
works of this extent could have been planned and 
executed without the aid of an alphabet, and preserv- 
ed, probably for a long time, till they were finally 
saved from perishing by being committed to writing. 
We will not here repeat at large, what has already 
been said by others ; that a class of singers, devoted 

* A more plausible objection is this : that even if it be conceded, that it 
was possible to invent and execute such large poems, they would have an- 
swered no end, as they were too lon<2; to admit of being recited at once. 
But a reply may be n)ade to this. The Iliad and Odyssy could not he recit- 
ed at a banquet. But there were public festivals and assemblies which last- 
ed mnny days, and Herodotus read aloud the nine books of his history, in a 
succession of days at Olympia. The Iliad and Odyssey, which, when free 
from interpolations, were perhaps much shorter than they now arc, may 
have been recited in the course of several days. And if we may be permit- 
ted to indulge in conjecture, why may they not have been designed for such 
occasions.'' That the Greeks were accustomed to intellectual enjoyments, 
interrupted and afterwards continued, appears from the Telraloffies of the 
Dramatists in a later age. This is characteristic of a nation, which even in 
its pleasures desired something more than pasitimc, and always aimed at gran- 
deur and beauty> 



116 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

exclusively to this business, could easily preserve in 
Tiiemory much more ; that the poems were recited in 
parts, and therefore needed to be remembered only in 
parts ; and that even in a later age, when the Ho- 
meric poems had already been entrusted to writing, 
the rliapsodists still knew them so perfectly (as we 
must infer from the Ion of Plato), that they could 
readily recite any passage which was desired. But let 
us be permitted to call to mind a fact, which has come 
to light since the modern inquiries respecting Homer, 
hnd which proves, that poems of even greater extent 
than the Iliad and the Odyssey can live in the memory 
and mouths of a nation. The Dschangariade of the Cal- 
mucks is said to surpass the poems of Homer in length, 
as much as it stands beneath them in merit ;* and 
yet it exists only in the memory of a people, which 
is not unacquainted with writing. But the songs of a 
nation are probably the last things v;hich are commit- 
ted to writing, for the very reason that they are re- 
membered. 

But whatever opinions may be entertained on the 
origin of these poems, and whether we ascribe them 
to one author or to several, it will hardly be doubted 
that they all belong, on the whole, to one age, which 
we call in a larger sense, the age of Homer. The 

* See on tliis subject B. Bergmann, Nomadische Streifereyen unter den 
Kaliijycken. B. 2, S. 213, &ic. This Calmuck Homer flourished in (he last 
conturj'. Me is said to have sung three hundred and sixty cantos ; but this 
number may be exaggerated. Of the singers, called Dschangartschi, it is 
not easy to find one, who knows more than twenty by heart. In the fourth 
part of his work, Mr. Bergmann has given us a translation of one of them, 
which is about equal in longtli to a rhapsody of Homer. It thus appears to 
be no uncouunoii thin- for ilie Calmuck singers to retain in memory a poem 
quite as long as the Iliud or Odyssey. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 117 

important fact is, that we possess tliem. Whatever 
hypothesis we may adopt on their origin and forma- 
tion, their influence on the Grecian nation and on 
posterity remains the same. And these are the 
topics which claim our regard. 

It was Homer who formed the character of the 
Greek nation. No poet has ever, as a poet, exercised 
a similar influence over his countrymen. Prophets, 
lawgivers, and sages have formed the character of 
other nations ; it was reserved to a poet to form that 
of the Greeks. This is a trait in their character, 
which could not be wholly erased even in the period 
of their degeneracy. When lawgivers and sages 
appeared in Greece, the work of the poet had already 
been accomplished ; and they paid homage to his 
superior genius. He held up before his nation the 
mirror, in which they were to behold the world of 
gods and heroes no less than of feeble mortals, and to 
behold them reflected with purity and truth. His 
poems are founded on the first feelings of human 
nature ; on the love of children, spouse, and country ; 
on that passion which outweighs all others, the love of 
glory. His songs were poured forth from a breast, 
which sympathized with all the feelings of man ; and 
therefore they enter and wall continue to enter every 
breast, which cherishes the same sympathies. If 
it is granted to his immortal spirit, from another 
heaven than any of which he dreamed on earth, 
to look down on his race, to see the nations from 
the fields of Asia, to the forests of Hercynia, 
performing pilgrimages to the fountain, which his 
magic wand caused to flow ; if it is permitted to him 
to overlook the whole harvest of grand, of elevat- 



118 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

ed, of glorious productions, which have been called 
into being by means of his songs ; wherever his immor- 
tal spirit may reside, nothing more can be required 
to complete his happiness. 

Wherever writing is known, where it is used for 
the purpose of preserving poems, and thus a poetic 
literature is formed, the muse loses her youthful fresh- 
ness. Works of the greatest merit may still be pro- 
duced ; but poetry exerts its full influence only so 
long as it is considered inseparable from song and reci- 
tation. The Homeric poems were therefore so far from 
having produced a less considerable effect, because 
they lor a long time were not written down, that the 
source of their strength lay in this very circumstance. 
They entered the memory and the soul of the nation. 
If we were better acquainted with the forms of social 
life, which were prevalent in the cities of Ionia, and 
with which poetry necessarily stood in the closest 
union, we should be able to judge more definitely of 
its effects. The nature of things seems to show, that 
there, as in the mother country, they must have been 
sung at festivals and assemblies, whether public or 
private. This custom was so deeply fixed in the 
nation, that it continued long after these poems were 
committed to writing, and were thus accessible to a 
reader, and in fact, that it was declamation, which 
continued to give them tlieir full effect. We need but 
call to mind the remark, which Ion, the rhapsodist, 
makes to Socrates ;* '' I see the hearers now weep 
and now rise in passion, and appear as if deprived of 
sensation." if the rhapsodists in an age, when all 
that was divine in their art, had passed away, and 

♦Plat. 0|). iv. p. IPO. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 119 

when they sung only for money, could produce such 
effects, how great must have been their influence in 
the period of their greatest glory. 

Since the time of Homer, and chiefly through him, 
great changes in the relations of the class of bards 
necessarily took place ; and the traces of such changes 
are still distinct. Originally they sang only their own 
compositions, but now it became the custom to sing 
those of others, which they had committed to memory. 
In that part of Asia which was inhabited by Greeks, 
and especially at Chios, where Homer is said to have 
lived, ^ a particular school of bards was formed which, 
even among the ancients, were known by the name of 
the Homeridse. Whether these consisted originally 
of the family relations of the poet, is a question of no 
interest ; it became the name of those rhapsodists, 
who sang the poems of Homer, or those attributed to 
him. They are therefore distinguished from the 
earlier rhapsodists by this, that they sang not their 
own works, but those of others ; and this appears 
to have been the first change, which was effected, 
though without design, by Homer. But we may find 
in the gradual progress of the cities, and the modes 
of living in them, a chief cause of a change in the 
rhapsodists, which could not be very advantageous 
for them. In these cities, there may have been houses 

♦According to the well-known passage in the hymn to Apollo, cited by 
Thucydides iii. 104. " A blind man ; he dwells on the rocky Chios ; and 
his songs are the first among men." Even if this hymn be not by Homer 
(the age of Thucydides esteemed it certainly his), it must have been com- 
posed in an age, which approached that of Homer. That Homer was an in- 
habitant of Chios, is an account, for the truth of which we have no guaranty 
but tradition. But that tradition is a very ancient one, and t!io account con- 
tains nothing which is in itself improbable, or which should induce u» to 
doubt its accuracy. 



120 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

of the opulent, and public halls,^ in which they could 
recite ; but they found no longer the dwellings of 
heroes and kings. Little confidence as we may place 
in the life of Homer attributed to Herodotus, and 
several other writings ; it is still remarkable, that all 
unite in describing the fortunes of the poet during 
his lifetime, as by no means splendid. But his songs 
continued to live, and, probably in the very first cen- 
tury after the poet, were carried by Lycurgus into 
the Peloponnesus : and from the same school, other 
epic poets also started up, whose works have been 
swallowed by the stream of time.f A happy accident 
has preserved for us the general contents of a few of 
them ;t but, though these accounts are meagre, we 
may still infer from them, that even among the 
ancients, they were chiefly of interest to the professed 
student of literature, and that they never gained any 

* The X£(r;^;ai. We are almost involuntarily reminded of similar appearances, 
which marked the decline of the poetr}-- of chivalrj'. 

t The Cyclic poets, as they are called, who treated subjects of mytholog- 
ical tradition, or the cyclus of traditions respecting the Trojan expedition. 
See on this subject, Escurs. i. ad iEneid. L. ii. ed. Heynii. 

t In the selections of Proclus, in Bibl. d. alten Litt. und Knnst. St. i. Ine- 
dila p. 1. etc. These are 1. the Cyprian poem, probably by Stasinus of 
Cyprus. It contained, in eleven books, the earlier events of the Trojan war 
before the action of the Iliad. 2. The .i:thiopis of Arctinus the iMilesian j 
containing, in five books, the expedition and death of Memnon. 3. The 
small Iliad of Lesches of Mitylene ; embracing, in four books, the contention 
of Ajax and Ulysses, till the preparation of theTrojan horse. 4. The destruction 
of Troy {'IxUu ori^vn) of Arctinus, in two books. 6. The return of the heroes 
(»fl(rT«), of Augias, infive books. 6. The Telegoniad,or fates of Ulysses afterhis 
return, by Eugammon, in two books. The contents of these poems, as here 
given, show, that no one of them can be compared, in point of plan, with 
the epopees of Homer. But these poems also must for a long time have 
Lave been preserved by song alone ; for their authors, although some 
what youuger than Homer, still lived in times, when, according to all that 
we know, letters were but little used, or perhaps entirely unknown. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 121 

claim to be called national poems. But the works of 
these, and so many others, of whom we know only the 
names, show how generally epic poetry was extended 
among the nation. After the epic language had once 
been perfected by Homer, it remained peculiar to 
this kind of poetry ; and when we read the works 
of much later poets, of Quintus, or of Nonnus, 
we might believe ourselves employed on authors 
many centuries older than they, had we not other 
evidence beside their language to fix the period 
in which they lived. That the dialect of Homer 
remained the principal one for this class of poetry, 
had an important influence on Grecian literature. 
Amidst all the changes and improvements in lan- 
guage, it prevented the ancient from becoming anti- 
quated, and secured it a place among the later modes 
of expression. This was a gain for the language and 
for the nation. With the dialect of Homer, his spirit 
continued in some measure to live among the epic 
poets. Language cannot of itself make a poet ; but 
yet how much depends on language. If in those 
later poets we occasionally hear echoes of Homer, is it 
not sometimes his spirit which addresses us ? 

But his influence on the spirit of his countrymen 
was much more important, than his influence on their 
language. He had delineated the world of heroes 
in colours which can never fade. He had made it 
present to posterity ; and thus the artist and the 
tragic poet found a sphere opened for the employment 
of their powers of representation. And the scenes 
from which they drew their subjects, could not have 
remained foreign to their countrymen. We do but 
touch on this subject, in order to say something on 
16 



122 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

the point, which lies particularly within the circle of 
our inquiries ; the influence which Homer and the 
epic poets exercised on the political character of their 
countrymen. 

When we compare the scanty fragments which 
are still extant, respecting the circulation and pres- 
ervation of the poems of Homer, it is j'emarkable 
that in Hellas itself,' the lawgivers and rulers 
were the most active in making them known and in 
saving them from perishing. Lycurgus, we are told, 
was the first who introduced them into the Pelopon- 
nesus by means of the rhapsodists ; Solon esteemed 
the subject so important, that in his code of laws, he 
formed distinct regulations, in conformity to which it 
seems probable that the several rhapsodies were recit- 
ed, not as before without method, but in their natural 
order by several rhapsodists, who relieved each other 
at intervals. All this prepared for the undertaking 
of Pisistratus ; who, according to the accounts of the 
ancients, not only arranged the poems of Homer, but 
gained a claim to the eternal gratitude of posterity, 
by committing them to writing.* 

This care in those illustrious men did not result 
from a mere admiration of poetry. That it was con- 
nected with their political views, if it needs such con- 
hrmation, appears from the circumstance, that Solon 
introduces it into his laws. Were we to form a 
judgment on this subject from the narrow views of 
our own times, it would seem strange, that they who 
tbundcd or confirmed the government of a number, 
even a democracy, should have laboured to extend the 

♦The passages in proof of this aia collected and duly weighed in (he 
rrolegomcna of Wolf, p. 139, 6ic. 



HOMER. THE EPIC POETS. 123 

productions of a bard, who was opposed to their prin- 
ciples, and declares his political creed without dis- 
guise ;* '' no good comes of the government of the 
many; let one be ruler, and one be king;'' and in 
whose works, as we have already remarked, repub- 
licanism finds no support. But their views were not 
so limited. Their object was not to confirm, by 
means of the poet, their own institutions and their 
own laws. They desired to animate their nation with 
a love for excellence and sublimity. Poetry and song, 
indissolubly united, seemed to them the fittest means 
of gaining that end. These had the greatest influ- 
ence on the intellectual culture of the people. And if 
that culture lay within the sphere of the Grecian 
lawgivers (and it always did, though in different 
degrees), of what importance in their eyes must that 
poet have been, whose poems, above all others, were 
recited by the class of rhapsodists, that lent a glory to 
the national festivals and assemblies? Solon, himself 
one of the first of moral poets, could not but per- 
ceive, how much experience and knowledge of the 
world are contained in those books, with which youth 
is begun, and to which age returns. No fear was 
entertained, lest the narrations respecting the gods 
should be injurious to morals; although that fear 
afterwards induced Plato to banish them from his 
republic ; the philosopher, who but for Homer, never 
could have become Plato. For, as we have already 
remarked, the gods were not held up as models for 
imitation. But whilst the people was enriching itself 
with that infinite treasure of practical wisdom, it con- 
tinued at the same time to live in a world of heroes, 

♦ II. ii. 204. 



124 CHAPTER SIXTH. 

and to preserve a taste for objects of beauty. It is 
impossible to estimate the consequences which resulted 
from this, the gain of the nation as a nation, by the 
encouragement of its warlike spirit, by the preserva- 
tion of its love of liberty and independence. In one 
respect, those lawgivers v/ere unquestionably in the 
right; a nation, of which the culture rested on the 
Iliad and Odyssey, could not easily be reduced to a 
nation of slaves. 



PRESEUVATION OP THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 125 



CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

MEANS OF PRESERVING THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 

The Greeks, though divided at home, and extend- 
ed widely in foreign countries, always considered 
themselves as forming but one nation. The character 
of the Hellenes was no where obliterated ; the citizen 
of Massilia and Byzantium, retained it no less than 
the Spartan and Athenian. The name barbarian^ 
although it was applied to all who were not Greeks, 
conveyed a secondary idea, which was closely inter- 
woven with the Grecian character ; that they esteem- 
ed themselves more cultivated than the rest of the 
world. It was not that gross kind of national pride, 
which despises all foreigners because they are foreign- 
ers ; even where it was in itself unjust, its origin was 
a just one. 

But this higher culture could never have remained 
a bond of national union, the different tribes of the 
Hellenes possessed it in such different degrees. Ex- 
ternal marks were therefore needed. These were 
afforded by two things ; by language, and certain 
institutions sanctioned by religion. 

Various and different as were the dialects of 
the Hellenes,* — and these differences existed not 
only among the various tribes, but even among 
the several neighbouring cities, — they yet acknowl- 
edged in their language, that they formed but one 

♦See what Herodotus says of the dialects of the Grecian cities in Asia ; 
i. 143. 



126 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

nation, were but branches of the same family. Those 
who were not Greeks, were described even by Ho- 
mer,-^ as " men of other tongues ;" and yet Homer 
had no general name for the nation. But though the 
bond of a common language may be a natural and an 
indissoluble one, something more is required to make 
it serve as the bond of national union. The language 
must be not merely the instrument of communicating 
thoughts ; for it is that to every savage ; something 
must exist in it, which may be regarded as the common 
property of the nation, because it is precious and dear 
to them ; the works of poets, and next to them^ of prose 
writers, which are admired, listened to, and read by 
all. It is such productions which make a language pe- 
culiarly Viiluable to a nation. The national spirit, and 
manner of thinking and feeling, are expressed in them ; 
the nation beholds in them its own portrait ; and sees 
the continuance of its spirit among future generations 
secured. They form not only its common property, 
in which each tribe, according to the strict meaning 
of the word, has its undisputed share ; they form its 
most sublime, its noblest, its least pei;ishable property. 
In what a light, therefore, do Homer, and those who 
trod in his footsteps appear, when they are considered 
from this point of view. Their poems, listened to 
and admired by all who used the Greek language, 
reminded the inhabitants of Hellas, of Ionia, and of 
Sicily, in the liveliest manner, that they were brothers. 
When we consider the long series of ages, during 
which the ])ocms of Homer and the HomeridjE were 
the only common possession of the Hellenes, it may 
even be made a question, whether without them they 

* Bmoia^ifium. II. ii, 8G7, 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 127 

would have remained a nation. National poetry was 
therefore the bond, which held them together ; but 
this bond was strengthened by another ; by that of 
religion. 

Unlike the religions of the East, the religion of the 
Hellenes was supported by no sacred books, was con- 
nected with no peculiar doctrines ; it could not, there- 
fore, serve like the former, to unite a nation by means 
of a common religious creed ; but it was fitted for gain- 
ing that end, in so far as the external rites of religion 
afforded opportunities. But as the nation had no cast 
of priests, nor even a united order of priesthood, it 
naturally followed, that though individual temples 
could in a certain degree become national temples, 
this must depend, for the most part, on accidental 
circumstances ; and where every thing was voluntary, 
nothing could be settled by established forms like 
those which prevailed in other countries. The tem- 
ples at Olympia, Delos, and Delphi, may justly be 
denominated national temples, although not in the 
same sense in which we call those of the Jews and the 
Egyptians national ; but their effects were perhaps 
only more considerable and more secure, because 
every thing connected with them was voluntary. The 
fruits of civilization came forth, and were matured, 
under the protection of these sanctuaries also ; though 
not in the same manner as in Egypt and Ethiopia ;* 
and if we hear of their national festivals,! their ora- 
cles, and their Amphictyonic assemblies, other ideas 
are connected with them, than in other countries. 
But while we enumerate them individually, let it not 

♦Heeren. Ideen. etc. Th. ii. S. 477, &ic. 
f The Greek word for them, is ^avyiyv^as. 



128 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

be forgotten, that all these fruits ripened on one and 
the same branch ; that they, therefore, closely united, 
could ripen only together ; that by this very means 
they gained a higher value in the eyes of the nation ; 
and that this value must be estimated by their influ- 
ence, rather than by what they were in themselves. 
We shall hardly be mistaken, if we consider those 
sanctuaries the most ancient, which were celebrated 
for their oracles. Those of Dodona and Delplii were 
declared to be so by the voice of the nation ; and 
both of them, especially that of Delphi, were so far 
superior to the rest, that they are in some measure 
to be esteemed as the only national oracles.* We 
leave to others all farther investigation of these insti- 
tutions ; the question which chams our attention, is 
how far they contributed to preserve the spirit and 
the union of the nation. They did not effect this by 
being regarded as intended only for the Hellenes. 
Foreigners also were permitted to consult the oracles ; 
and to recompense the answers which they received 
by consecrated presents. But this took place only in 
individual cases ; and was done probably by none but 
rulers and kings, from the time when Alyattes first 
made application at Delphi. f In other cases, the 
difference of language was alone sufficient to keep 

*The number of Grecian oracles, constantly increasing, became, as is 
well known, exceedingly numerous. With the exception of that of Dodona, 
which was of Egyptio-Pelasgic origin, (he oracles of the Greeks were almost 
exclusively connected with the worship of ApoUo. We know of more than 
fifty of his oracles ; (see Bulenger de oraculis et vatibus, in Thes. Ai^t. Gr. 
vol. vii.) of the few others, the more celebrated owed their origin to the 
hanic god, as those of Mopsus and Tro|)honius to whom he had imparted the 
gift of prophesying. How much of the riles of religion among (he Hellenes 
depended on the religion of Apollo. There is no w ant oi learned compilations 
on these subjects ; but u wide field seems here to be opened to the philo- 
sophic historian. f Herod, i. 19. 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 129 

foreigners away, as the Pythian priestess spoke al- 
ways in Greek. These institutions belonged, if not 
exclusively, yet principally to the Hellenes ; of whom 
both individuals and cities could always have access 
to them. They formed the connecting link between 
politics and the popular religion. Their great polit- 
ical influence, especially in the states of the Doric 
race, is too well known from history to make it ne- 
cessary for us to adduce proofs of it. That influence 
doubtless became less after the Persian wars. Wheth- 
er this diminution of influence was injurious or advan- 
tageous cannot easily be decided. When the recip- 
rocal hatred of the Athenians and Spartans excited 
them to the fury of civil war, how much suffering 
would have been spared to Greece, if the voice of tlie 
gods had been able to avert the storm. But the aff'airs 
of the Delphic temple were still considered as the 
concern of the Grecian nation ; and even after infidel- 
ity had usurped the place of the ancient superstition, 
the violation of the sanctuary gave the politicians a 
pretence, sufficient to kindle a civil war, which was 
destined to cost Greece its liberties. 

Among the numerous festivals w^hich the several 
Grecian cities were accustomed to celebrate, there 
were some, which from causes that are no longer well 
known, or were perhaps quite accidental, soon bei arae 
really national. At these, foreigners could be specta- 
tors ; but the Hellenes alone were permitted to contend 
for the prizes. The right to do so belonged to the in- 
habitant of the farthest colony, as well as of the mother 
country, and was esteemed inalienable and invaluable. 
Even princes were proud of the privilege, for which 
the Persian king himself would have sued in vain, 
17 



130 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

of sending their chariots to the races of Olympia. 
Every one has learned from the hymns of Pindar, that, 
beside the Olympic contests, the Pythian games at 
Delphi, the Nemean at Argos, and the Isthmian at 
Corinth, belong to the same class. As to the origin 
of these games. Homer does not make mention of them, 
which he would hardly have neglected to do, if 
they had existed or been famous in his day. Yet 
the foundation of them was laid in so remote a 
period of antiquity, that it is attributed to gods and 
heroes. Uncertain as are these traditions, it is 
remarkable, that a different origin is attributed to 
each one of them. Those of Olympia were instituted 
by Hercules, on his victorious return, and were design- 
ed as contests in bodily strength ; those of Delphi 
were in their origin nothing but musical exercises ; 
although others were afterwards added to them. 
Those of Nemea were originally funeral games ; res- 
pecting the occasion of instituting those of the Isthmus, 
there are different accounts.* 

But whatever may have been the origin of the 
games, they became national ones. This did not 
certaiidy take place at once ; and we should err, if 
we should apply the accounts given us of the Olympic 
games in the flourishing periods of Greece, to the 
earlier ages. On the contrary, from the accurate 
registers which were kept by the judges, we learn 
most distinctly, with respect to these games, that 
they gained their importance and character by de- 
grees.! They have not forgotten to mention, when 

- All tl.c passages on the origin and the arrangements of the games, may 
l,c found collected in Schmidtii I'rolegomenisad Pindarura ; Potter's Archse- 
olofiia; and Corsiui Disertiones agonisticae ; and others. 

t See Pausanias in Eliacis, 1. v. 9. 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 131 

the different kinds of contests (for at first there were 
none hut in racing), were permitted and adopted. 
But still these games gained importance, although it 
was only by degrees ; and the time came, when they 
merited to be celebrated by a Pindar. 

In this manner, therefore, these festivals and the 
games connected with them, received a national char- 
acter. They were peculiar to the Grecians ; and on 
that account also were of great utility. " Those are 
justly praised,'^ Isocrates* very happily observes, 
^^who instituted these famous assemblies, and thus 
made it customary for us to come together as allies, 
having set aside our hostilities ; to increase our 
friendship by recalling our relationship in our com- 
mon vows and sacrifices ; to renew our ancient family 
friendships, and to form new ones. They have pro- 
vided, that neither the unpolished nor the well edu- 
cated should leave the games without profit ; but that 
in this assembly of the Hellenes in one place, some 
may display their wealth, and others observe the con- 
tests, and none be present without a purpose, but 
each have something of which to boast ; the one part, 
while they see those engaged in the contests making 
exertions on their account ; the other, when they 
consider that all this concourse of people has assem- 
bled, to be spectators of their contests.'^ 

The accounts which we read of the splendor of 
these games, especially of the Olympic, where the 
nation of the Hellenes appeared in its glory, give a 
high idea of them. And yet it was public opinion, 
far more than the reality, which gave to the crown of 
victory its value. The glory of being conqueror 

*Isocrates. Panegyr. Op p. 49. Steph. 



132 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

in tlicm. was the highest with which the Grecian was 
acquainted ; it conferred honour, not only on him 
who won the palm, but on his family and on his 
native city. He was not honoured in Olympia alone ; 
his victory was the victory of his native place ; here 
he was solemnly received ; new festivals were insti- 
tuted on his account ; he had afterwards a right of 
living at the public charge in the prytanea. A vic- 
tory at Olympia, says Cicero with truth,* rendered 
the victor illustrious, no less than his consultte the 
Roman consul. The tournaments of the middle age 
were something similar ; or might have become 
something similar, if the relations of society had not 
prevented. But as a distinct line of division w^as 
drawn between the classes, they became interesting 
to but one class. Birth decided who could take a 
part in them, and who were excluded. There w^as 
nothing of that among the Hellenes. The lowest of 
the people could join at Olympki in the contest for the 
branch of the sacred olive-tree, as well as x\lcibiades, 
or even the ruler of Syracuse with all the splendor of 
his equipage. 

The influence on the political relations of the 
Grecian states, was perhaps not so great as Isocrates 
represents. A solemnity of a few days could hardly 
be sufficient to cool the passions and still the mu- 
tual enmities of the several tribes. History men- 
tions no peace, which was ever negotiated, and still 
less which was ever concluded at Olympia. But so 
much the greater was the influence exercised over the 
culture of the nation ; and if the culture of a nation 

♦Cicero. Qiitcst. Tusr. ii. IT. 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 133 

decides its character, our plan requires of us to pause 
and consider it. 

In all their institutions, when they are considered 
in the light in which the Greeks regarded them, we 
shall commonly find proofs of the noble dispositions 
of the Hellenes. And these are to be observed in the 
games, where every thing, which was in itself beau- 
tiful and glorious ; bodily strength and skill in box- 
ing, wrestling, and running ; the splendor of opu- 
lence, as displayed in the equipages for the chari- 
ot races ; excellence in poetry, and soon also in other 
intellectual productions, were here rewarded with 
their prize. But the degree of importance assigned 
to the productions of mind was not every where 
the same. Musical contests,* in which the Greeks 
united poetry, song, and music, were common in 
those larger games, as well as in those hardly less 
splendid ones, which were instituted in the several 
cities. But there was a difference in their relative 
importance. At Olympia, though they were not 
entirely excluded, they were yet less essential ;i' they 
formed from the beginning the primary object in the 
Pythian games. They held the same rank in several 

* The Greeks made a distinction between ayuvis yvfAvtxo) and fiovcnxoi. The 
former relate to the exercises of the body ; the latter to the works of genius ; that 
is, to poetry and whatever was connected with it. At these festivals it never enter- 
ed the mind of the Greeks to institute prizes for competitors in the arts of design j 
at least not in poetr}^ (Pliny, however, mentions a competition of painters, 
XXXV. 35. ; Tlie cause of this may in part be, that those arts were not so soon 
brought to perfection as the former ones ; but I hardly doubt that the cause was 
rather that the Greeks conceived it proper to institute competition only in those arts, 
of which the results were temporary ; and not in those, of which the productions are 
exhibited in public, and are lasting ; for in them, as in sculpture for example, there 
is a constant exhibition, and therefore a constant emulation. 

t See the instructive Versuch von den musicalischen Wettstreiten der 
Alten, which is to be found in Der ncuen Bibl. dcr Schonen WissonsclKiften, 



134 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

festivals of the smaller cities, in the Panathensea at 
Athens, in Delos,* at Epidaurus, Ephesus, and other 
places. But even where no actual competition took 
place, every one who felt possessed of sufficient talents, 
was permitted to come forward with the productions of 
art. The rhapsodist and the performer on the flute, 
the lyric poet, the historian, and the orator, had each 
his place. The hymns of Pindar were chanted in 
honour of the victors, not in emulation of others ; 
and Herodotus had no rival, when he read the books 
of his history at Olympia. The bosom of the Helle- 
nes was large enough to afford room for the reception 
of every thing which was glorious and beautiful, and 
it was especially at Olympia and Delphi, that the 
observer of the character of the Greeks could justly 
break forth in exclamations of admiring astonish- 
ment. 

The Amphictionic assemblies, as they were called 
by the Grecians, appear to have exercised a still 
greater influence on political union.f Under that 
name the assemblies are signified, which were held 
in some common temple by several tribes which 
occupied the territory round it, or by neighbouring 
cities, in order to consult on the afiairs connected with 
the sanctuary, and on others of a more general nature. 

♦The musical contests in Uelos, with which gymnastic exercises sooq 
came lo be connected, were the most ancient Ionic national games ; as Thu- 
cydidt's, iii. 1U4, has already proved from the Homeric hymn to Apollo. 
They were originally connected w illi tiie service of that god, and were 
comnmnicaltd with it by the lonians to tlie Dorians. Hence they were 
not regarded at Olympia, IS'emca, and on the Isthmus, as forming an essen- 
tial part of the solemnity. 

f T[ie Greek word is sometimes spelt ufi^ucTttvis, those, who dwell round about, 
sometimes iftftKrutm from the hero Auiphictyon, called by tradition tke founder 
©f tlie same. 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 135 

It was therefore characteristic of these assemblies, 
first, that a temple or sanctuary formed their central 
point : farther, that several tribes or cities participat- 
ed in them ; thirdly, that assemblies of the people, 
festivals, and, of course, games were connected with 
them ; and fourthly, that besides these popular assem- 
blies and festivals, deputies under various names, 
(Theori, Pylagorae) were sent by the several states 
which participated in them, to deliberate on subjects 
of common interest. We shall be able to see these 
institutions in their true light, after taking a view of 
the origin of temples in Greece. 

As soon as the manners of cities were distinctly 
formed with the Greeks, and the individual cities in 
the mother country, no less than in the colonies, had 
for the most part become rich by means of commerce and 
industry in the arts, temples were built by single towns. 
Beside this, as we shall show more fully in another 
place, the luxury of the public was connected almost 
exclusively with these temples, and they were to 
serve as the measure of the splendor and wealth of 
the respective cities. The building of temples, there- 
fore, became, especially after the Persian wars, and 
even a century before them, a matter, in which the 
honour of the cities was concerned, and their public 
spirit was to be exhibited. In this manner that mul- 
titude of temples arose, which still present, in their 
numerous ruins, masterpieces of architecture. But 
it was not and could not have been so in the earliest 
times. The building of a temple was then commonly 
a joint undertaking ; partly because these temples, 
however much they may have been inferior to the 



136 CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

later ones,^ were still too costly to be borne by the 
separate communities ; and partly and chiefly because 
such common sanctuaries were needed for celebrating 
the common festivals of each tribe. 

Such a sanctuary formed in some measure a point 
of union. It was an object of common care ; it be- 
came necessary to watch over the temple itself, its 
estates, and its possessions ; and as this could not be 
done by the several communities at large, what was 
more natural, than to depute envoys for the purpose ? 
But in a nation, where every thing was freely develop- 
ed, and so little was fixed by established forms, it could 
not but happen, that other affairs of general interest 
should occasionally be discussed ; either at the pop- 
ular festivals, or in the assemblies of the delegates ; 
and that is the most probable, as the allies consid- 
ered themselves, for the most part, as branches of 
the same nation. They became therefore the points 
of political union ; the idea of a formal alliance was 
not yet connected with them, but might be expected 
from their maturity. 

We find traces of such Amphictyonic assemblies in 
Greece itself, and in the colonies.f Their origin, 

♦ See what Pausanias, x. p. 810, says of the temples, which were succes- 
sively built at Delphi. 

t A catalof^tie of them, which might perhaps be enlarged, has been given 
by St. C i'o\\, Des ancicns GomenicmeiUsfederalifSf p. 115, etc. We follovr 
him, as it will atTord at the same time, proofs of what has been said above. 
There was such an Amphictyonia in Bceotia, at Orthestus, in a temple of 
Neptune ; in Attica, in a temple, of which the name is not mentioned ; at 
Corinth, on the isthmus, in the temple of Neptune; in the island Calauria, 
near Argolis, also in a temple of Neptune ; another in Argolis, in the cele- 
brated temple of Juno ('H^«r«v) ; in Llis, in a temple of Neptune ; also on the 
Grecian islands ; in Euba'u, in the temple of Diana Amaurusia ; in Delos, in 
the temple of Apollo, the Panegyric, of which we have already made merr- 
tlon, and which served for all the neighbouring islands; in Asia, the Panio- 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 137 

especially in the mother country, is very ancient ; and 
we may in most cases assert, and with justice, that it be- 
longs to the period, when the republican forms of govern- 
ment were not yet introduced, and the constitutions of 
the tribes were in vigour. For we find that those 
who shared in them, were much more frequently 
influenced to assemble by tribes than by cities. And 
this affords an obvious reason, why they lost their 
influence as the nation advanced in culture, except 
where peculiar causes operated to preserve them. In 
the flourishing period of Greece, most of them had 
become mere antiquities, which were only occasionally 
mentioned ; or, if they continued in the popular fes- 
tivals which w^ere connected with them, (and popular 
festivals are always longest preserved), they were 
but bodies without soul. This result was a necessary 
one, since, on the downfall of the constitutions of the 
tribes, the whole political life of the nation w^as con- 
nected with the cities, the spirit of the tribes had be- 
come annihilated by the spirit of the cities, and each 
of the cities had erected its own temples. 

Yet of these Amphictyonic councils, one rose to a 
higher degree of importance, and always preserved a 
certain measure of dignity ; so that it was called, by 
way of eminence, the Amphictyonic council. This 
was the one held at Delphi and Thermopylae.* 
When we bear in mind the ideas which have just been 

niura at Mycale, afterwards at Ephesus, for the lonians ; the temple of Apollo 
Triopius for the Dorians ; for the iEolians, the temple of Apollo Grynajus. 
Even the neighbouring Asiatic tribes, the Carians and the Lycians, had simi- 
lar institutions, either peculiar, or adopted of the Greeks. The proofs of 
these accounts may be found collected in the abovementioned author. 

♦According to Strabo, is. p. 289, it does not appear that the assembly was 
held alternately at Delphi and Thermopyhe ; but the deputies first came to- 
gether at Thermopylae to sacrifice to Ceres; and then proceeded to Delphi. 
where business was transacted. 

18 



13b CHAPTER SEVENTH. 

illustrated, we shall hardly be led to expect, that the 
nation, in its whole extent, would ever have been united 
by any common bond ; and still less that this bond should 
have been more closely drawn with the progress of 
time, and finally have united all the Grecian states in 
one political body. But this Amphictyonic assembly 
contributed much to the preserving of national feeling 
and national union, and as such deserves to be con- 
sidered by us with more attention. 

Strabo concedes,* that even in his time it was 
impossible to ascertain the origin of the Amphictyonic 
assembly ; this however was certain, that it belonged 
to remote antiquity. We must here remark, that 
Homer does not make any mention of it; and yet 
Homer speaks of the wealthy Delphi;! ^^^ although 
his silence affords no proof that it did not exist, we 
may at least infer, that the council was not then so 
important as it afterwards came to be. The causes 
which made this Amphictyonia so much superior to all 
the rest, are not expressly given ; but should we err, 
if we were to look for them in the ever increasing 
dignity and influence of the Delphic oracle ? When 
we call to mind the great importance attached to the 
liberty of consulting this oracle, scarcely a doubt on 
the subject can remain. The states which were 
members of this Amphictyonia, had no exclusive right 
to that privilege ; but had the care of the temple, and 
therefore of the oracle, in their hands. J No ancient 
writer has preserved for us so accurate an account 
of the regulations of that institution, that all important 

♦ Stial.o. c I. t II. ix. 404, 405. Homer calls it P> Uio. 

I Iiulividual states obtained the right of being the first to consult the oracle, 
trftfAmtrua, and this right was valued ver\' highly. 



PRESERVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 139 

questions respecting them can be answered ; and those 
who speak of tliem do not agree with each other. But 
from a comparison of their statements, we may infer, 
that though this Amphictyonia did not by any means 
embrace the whole of the Hellenes, yet the most con- 
siderable states of the mother country and of Asia Mi- 
nor took part in it. According to iEschines,* there 
were twelve of them, (although he enumerates but 
eleven) ; Thessalians, Bceotians, (not the Thebans 
only, he expressly remarks) ; Dorians, lonians, Per- 
rhaebians, Magnesians, Phthiotians, Maleans,t Pho- 
cians, (Etseans, Locrians ; the twelfth state was 
probably that of the inhabitants of Delphi themselves. 
Every city belonging to these tribes, had the right of 
sending deputies ; the smallest had an equal right 
with the largest ; and the votes of all were equal ; of 
the lonians, says iEschines, the deputies from Ere- 
tria in Euboea and from Priene in Asia Minor.J were 
equal to those from Athens ; of the Dorians, those 
from Dorium in Laconia, and from Cytinium on Par- 
nassus, had as much weight as those from LacedsBmon. 
But the votes were not counted by cities, but by 

* iEschines de Falsa Legatione iii. p. 285, ed. Reisk. This is the most impor- 
tant passage. St. Croix, p. 27, has compared the discrepant accounts of Pausani- 
as X. p. 815, and Harpocration v. Aju-ipiKTvovsg. The authority of iEschines, res- 
pecting his own times, seems to me of more weight than all the others ; and there- 
fore I follow him alone. No one had better means of information than he. But 
many changes in the regulations were subsequently made by the Macedonians and 
the Romans. 

t The four last were all in Thessaly. The reason of their being thus 
distinguislied from the rest of the Thessalians is probably to be found in the 
privilege, which they had preserved, of a separate vote. Herodotus vii, J32, 
divides them in the same manner. 

tU is therefore certain, that the individual colonies in Asia IMinor partici- 
pated in the assembly. We might suggest the (piestion, whether all the 
Asiatic colonies, and whether colonies in otber regions, did the same. 



140 CHAPTEU SEVENTH. 

tribes ; each tribe had two votes, and the majority 

decided.* 

And how large was the sphere of action, in which 
tliis assembly was accustomed to exert its influence ? 
Its first duty was to take charge of the temple ; its 
property ; its presents, the offerings of piety ; its 
sanctity. From this it naturally follows, that the 
assembly possessed judiciary powers. Persons who 
had committed sacrilege on the temple, were summon- 
ed before its tribunal, where judgment was passed 
and the acts of penance and punishment decreed.f 
But to these, political objects were added at a very 
early period ; such as the preservation of peace 
among the confederates, and the accommodating of 
contentions, which had arisen. VVe have, it is true, 
no proof, that those who participated in the assembly, 
considered themselves as nearly allied to each other ; 
but it is as little doubtful, that under the protection 
of this sanctuary, certain ideas arose and were diffus- 
ed, which might be considered as forming, in some 
measure, the foundation of a system of national law, 
although it was never brought to maturity. Of this 
we have indisputable proof in the ancient oaths, 
which were taken by all the members of the assembly, 
and which have been preserved by iEschines. J " I 

* For all farther knowledge which we have of the regulations of the Ara- 
jihictyonic council, we are indebted to Strabo ix. p. 2S9. According to him 
each city sent a deputy. These assembled twice a year, at the equinoxes. 
We arc ignorant of the length of the sessions of the assembly, whether any 
definite time was fixed for them, or not ; and of many other things respect- 
ing them. 

f As for instance, against the Phocians at the beginning of the last sacred 
war, and afterwards against the Locrians. Demosthenes has preserved for us two 
of those decrees {%'oyf4.itTa.), Op. i. p. 278. Reisk. From thera we learn the 
forms in which they were written. 

\ itstliines, I. c. p. 284. 



PRESEUVATION OF THE NATIONAL CHARACTER. 141 

read," says the orator, " in the assembly tlie oaths, 
to which the heaviest imprecations were attached ; 
and by which our ancestors^ were obliged to promise 
never to destroy any one of the Amphictyonic cities,! 
nor to cut off theii> streams.J whether in war or in 
peace ; should any city dare, notwithstanding, to do so, 
to take up arms against it and lay it waste ; and if 
any one should sin against the god, or form any 
scheme against the sanctuary, to oppose him with 
hand and foot, and word and deed.'^ This form of 
oath, it cannot be doubted, was very ancient, and 
expresses with snflicient clearness, the original objects 
of the confederation. But it shows equally distinctly, 
that the attainment of these ends depended much 
more on the circumstances and condition of the age, 
than on the members of the council themselves. 

To him who measures the value of this assembly, 
only by the influence which it had in preventing wars 
among the tribes that took part in it, its utility may 
seem very doubtful; as history -has preserved no 
proofs of such influence. But even if it had existed 
in the earliest ages, it must have ceased of itself, v;hen 
individual states of Greece became so powerful, as to 
assume a supremacy over the rest. Sparta and 
Athens referred the decision of their quarrels to Del- 
phi, as little as Prussia and Austria to Ratisbon. 
But it would be wrong to impute the blame of this to 
the members of the council. They had no strong arm, 
except when the god extended his to protect them ; 
or some other power took arms in their behal''. But 
it is a high degree of merit to preserve principles in 



♦o; 



'^SZ 



aioi. 



f Ayaffrarev Totriffxi, to render uninhabitable, by removing its inhabitants. 
t By means of Avbicli they would have become iininhnbilnble. 



142 CUAPTEU SEVENTH. 

the memory of the nations, even when it is impossible 
to prevent their violation. And when we observe 
that several ideas relating to the law of nations, were 
indelibly imprinted on the character of the Greeks ; if 
in the midst of all their civil wars, they never laid 
waste any Grecian city, even when it was subdued ; 
ought we not attribute this in some measure to the 
Amphictyonic assembly? They had it not in their 
power to preserve peace ; but they contributed to 
prevent the Grecians from forgetting, even in war, 
that they still were Grecians. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AM) THEIIi CONSEQUENCES. 143 



CHAPTER EIGHTH. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THt:iR CONSEQUENCES. 

Since the Trojan war, no opportunity had been 
presented to the Greek nation, of acting as one people 
in any equal and common undertaking. The institu- 
tions which we have just described, preserved, in a 
certain degree, the national spirit ; but they were 
by no means sufficient to produce political union ; 
to which any tendency was counteracted by the 
whole condition and internal relations of the nation. 
Even the colonies were unfavourable to it; not only 
by their distance, but still more by the independence 
which they enjoyed. In our days, how soon do col- 
onies which become independent, grow estranged 
from the mother countries, after having long stood in 
the closest connexion with them. 

In the century which preceded the Trojan war,* 
the Grecian states, excepting the Asiatic cities, 
which languished under the Persian yoke, had in 
many respects made advances in culture. Freedom 
had been triumphantly established in almost every 
partf of the mother country. The tyrants who had 
usurped power in the cities, had been overthrown in 
part by the Spartans, in part by the citizens them- 

♦ Between the years 600 and 500 before the christian era. 

t Thessaly was an exception, where the government of the Alenadap stilJ 
continued, although it was tottering ; for which reason they, like the Pisis- 
tratidae, invited the Persians into Greece. 



144 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

selves ; and popular governments had been introduc- 
ed in their stead. Above all^ Athens had shaken off 
the Pisistratidae, and came off victorious from the con- 
test which it had been obliged to sustain for its liberty. 
In the consciousness of its youthful energies, Herodo- 
tus says,^ " Athens, which before was great, when 
freed from its usurpers, became still greater." At 
the expulsion of the Pisistratidae, Sparta had, for the 
first time, undertaken to exert an influence beyond 
the Peloponnesus ; Corinth also had, for eighty-four 
years, t been in possession of freedom ; and a similar 
advantage had been gained by several of the less 
powerful cities, by SicyonJ and Epidaurus. The 
islands, no less than the continent, were in a flourish- 
ing condition ; their independence stood at that time 
in no danger from the Persians or the Athenians. 
Samos never saw an age like that of Polycrates, who 
trembled at his own prosperity ;§ the small island of 
Naxus could muster eight thousand heavy-armed 
men ;|| the inconsiderable Siphnus, very much enrich- 
ed by its gold mines, deemed it expedient to consult 
the Pythian oracle on the duration of its fortunes. 1[ 
The cities of Magna Grsecia, Tarentum, Croton, and 
Sybaris,^^ had attained the period of their splendor ; 
in Sicily, Syracuse, although disturbed by internal 
dissensions, was yet so powerful, that Gelon, its ruler, 
claimed in the Persian wars the chief command of 
all the Grecian forces : Marseilles arose on the shores 

♦Herod, v. 60. t The year 584 before Christ. 

$ From about the year 600 B. C. Epidaurus at the same time. 
§ Herod, iii. 72. || Herod, v. 30. H Pausan. Phoc. p. 628. 

*♦ Herod, vi. 127. Yet Sybaris uas destroyed just before the Persian 
wars, by the Crotoniata:. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 145 

of Gaul ; Cyrene was established on the coast of 
Lybia. 

But some grand object of common interest still was 
wanting ; and as the Spartans were already jealous 
of Athens, it was the more to be feared, that the 
consciousness of increasing strength would lead to 
nothing but the mutual ruin of the cities in civil wars. 
The Persian wars supplied the object which was 
needed. Although they by no means resulted in the 
establishment of that general union of the whole nation 
of the Hellenes, of which a great man had formed the 
idea without believing in the possibility of realizing 
it ; the whole condition of Greece in succeeding ages, 
its foreign and domestic relations, were all a conse- 
quence of them ; and we do not say too much, when 
we assert, that the political character of Greece was 
formed by them. 

There never was any general union of the Greeks 
against the Persians ; but the idea of such a confede- 
ration had been called up ; and was, if not entirely, 
yet in a great measure carried into effect. What is 
more arduous, than in times of great difficulty, when 
every one fears for himself, and is chiefly concerned 
for self-preservation, to preserve among a multitude 
of small states, that public spirit and union, in which 
all strength consists. The Athenians were left almost 
alone to repel the first invasion of Darius Hystaspes ; 
but the glory won at Marathon was not sufficient to 
awaken general enthusiasm, when greater danger 
threatened from the invasion of Xerxes. All the 
Thcssalians, the Locrians, and Boeotians, except the 
cities of ThespiiE and Plateae, sent earth and water to 
the Persian king at the first call to submit 5 although 
19 



X46 CUAPTEll EIGHTH. 

these tokens of subjection were attended by the 
curses of the rest of the Greeks, and the vow that a 
tithe of their estates should be devoted to the deity of 
Delphi.* Yet of the rest of the Greeks, who did not 
favour Persia, some were willing to assist only on 
condition of being appointed to conduct and command 
the whole ;t others, if their country could be the first 
to be protected ;{ others sent a squadron, which was 
ordered to wait till it was certain which side would 
gain the victory ;^ and others pretended they were 
held back by the declarations of an oracle. || So true 
is the remark of Herodotus, that, however ill it might 
be taken by others, he was constrained to declare, that 
Greece was indebted for its freedom to Athens.H 
Athens, with Themistocles for its leader, gave life 
to the courage of the other states; induced them to 
lay aside their quarrels ; yielded, where it was duty to 
yield f"" and always relied on its own strength, while 
it seemed to expect safety from all. Hope was not 
disappointed in the result ; the battle of Salamis gave 

♦Herod, vii. 132. 

+ Gelon of Syracuse ; Herod, vii. 158. On this condition, he promised to 
to produce an army of 28,000 men, well equipped ; a fleet of 200 triremes, 
and as much grain as was desired. " Of truth," answered the Lacedemoni- 
an ambassador, " Agamemnon, the descendant of Pelops, would remonstrate 
loudly, were he to hear that the chief command had been taken from the 
Spartans, by Gclon the Syiacusan." And when Gelon declared, that he 
would be content with the command by sea; the Athenian envoy quickly 
replied, " King of Syracuse, Hellas has sent us to you, not because it needs a 
genpral, but because it needs an army." 

}The Thessalians, who had however already surrendered. Herod, vii. 
172. 

§ The Corcyrwans ; Herod, vii. 168. |1 The Cretans ; Herod, vii. 169. 
il Herod, vii. 139. A noble testimony in favor of Athens, and at the same 
time, of the free spirit and impartiality of Herodotus. " I must here," says 
this lover of truth, " express to all Greece, an opinion, which to most men is 
odious ; but yet that, which to me seems the truth, I will not conceal." 
♦♦ As ut Artcmisiuui ; liciod. viii.3. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 147 

a new impulse to the spirit of the Greeks ; and when 
in the following year* the hattle of Plateae gave a 
decision to the contest, the greater part of Hellas was 
assemhled in the field of battle.f 

We would give no description of those glorious 
days, but only of the consequences which they had for 
Greece. In the actions of men, greatness is seldom or 
never quite unmixed with meanness ; and he who 
investigates the actions of those times with care, will 
find many and various proofs of it. And yet in the 
whole compass of history, we can find no series of 
events, which deserve to be compared with the grand 
spectacle, then exhibited ; and with all the exaggera- 
tions of the orators and poets the feeling of pride, with 
which the Greek reflected on his achievements, was a 
just one. A small country had withstood the attack 
of half a continent; it had not only saved the most 
costly possessions, which were endangered, its liberty, 
its independence ; it felt itself strong enough to con- 
tinue the contest, and did not lay aside its arms, 
till it was permitted to prescribe the conditions of 
peace. 

The price of that peace was the emancipation of 
the Greek colonies in Asia, from the Persian yoke. 
Twenty years before the invasion of Xerxes, when 
those cities had attempted to throw off the supremacy 
of the Persians, the Athenians had boldly ventured to 
send a squadron with troops to reinforce them ; and 
that expedition occasioned the burning of Sardis, 
which was the capital of the Persian dominions in 
Asia Minor. "These ships,'' says Herodotus,} 

* In the year 479 B. C. t Herod, ix. 28. 

} Herod, v. 97. 



148 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

" were the origin of the wars betw^een the Hellenes 
and the barbarians." This interference was deeply 
resented by the Persians ; and their resentment would 
have been reasonable, if they had possessed the 
right of reducing free cities to a state of depen- 
dence. Herodotus has given a copious narration of 
the ill success of the revolt, and of the manner, in 
which Miletus suffered for it. Even in the subsequent 
expeditions of the Persians against Europe, the ruling 
idea was the desire of taking revenge on Athens ; and 
when Xerxes reduced that city to ashes, he may have 
found in it no small degree of satisfaction.* But 
when the victory remained in the hands of the Greeks, 
they continued with spirit a war, which for them was 
no longer a dangerous one ; and if the emancipation 
of their countrymen became from that time nothing 
more than an ostensible reason,! it was still a proof 
of the reviving national spirit. When the war after 
fifty-one years was terminated by the first peace with 
the Persians,! it was done under the conditions, that 
the Grecian cities in Asia should be free ; that the 
troops of the Persians should keep two days' march 
distant from them ; and that their squadron should 
leave the iEgean sea.§ In a similar manner, after a 
long and similar contest, emancipated Holland, in a 
more recent age, prescribed the conditions of peace 
to the ruler of both the Indies, and blockaded the 

♦ Herod, viii. 54, 

1 1 lie Asiatic Greeks, however, during the expedition of Xerxes, in which 
they were compelled to take a part with their ships, had entreated the 
Spartans and Athenians to free them. 

t In the year 449 B. C. 

§ Plutarch in Cimon.Op. iii. p. 202, quotes the decree of the people, con- 
taining the conditions. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 149 

months of his rivers, while it preserved the oceaa 
open to itself. 

Thus the people of Hellas, by means of this war, 
appeared among the nations in the splendor of 
victory. They were now^ permitted to look around 
in tranquil security ; for who would venture to 
attack them ? The eastern world obeyed the hum- 
bled Persian ; in the North, the kingdom of Macedo- 
nia had not yet begun its career of conquest ; and 
Italy, still divided into small states, did not as yet 
contain a victorious republic. The period was 
therefore come, in which Greece could unfold all its 
youthful vigour ; poetry and the fine arts put forth 
their blossoms ; the philosophic mind contemplate 
itself in tranquillity ; and in public spirit, the sev- 
eral cities vie with each other in generous compe- 
tition. A nation does not need peace and tranquil- 
lity, to become great ; but it needs the consciousness 
that it is possessed of strength, to gain peace and 
tranquillity. 

The Persian wars gave a character, not only to the 
relations of Greece with foreign countries, but also 
to its internal condition ; and were of hardly less 
importance to the nation by means of the latter, than 
of the former. During that contest, the idea of 
a supremacy, or rjyif^ovtu^ as the Greeks termed it, 
entrusted to one state over the rest, or usurped by 
that state, became current throughout Greece. 

Even before the Persian war, the idea had been 
faintly expressed ; Sparta had always, as the strong- 
est of the Dorian tribes, claimed a sort of supremacy 
over the Peloponnesus ; and had in some measure 



150 CHAPTEU EIGHTH. 

deserved it, by banishing the tyrants from the cities of 
that peninsula.* 

In the common opposition, made by so many of 
the Grecian cities, to the attack of Xerxes, the want 
of a general leader was felt ; but according to the 
Grecian rules, this command could not so well be 
committed to one man, as to one state. We have 
already observed, that several laid claims to it ; those 
af Syracuse were at once rejected ; and Athens was 
at once prudent and generous enough to yield. At 
that time, therefore, the honour was nominally con- 
ferred on Sparta ; it was actually possessed by the 
state, of which the talents merited it ; and Sparta 
had no Themistocles. But Athens soon gained it nom- 
inally also ; when the haughtiness of Pausanias had 
exasperated the confederates; and Sparta was de- 
prived by his fall of the only man, who in those days 
could have reflected any lustre upon the state.f 

♦Thucyd. i. IS. 76. 

+ Of this we have accurate accounts in Thucydides, i. 95. The Spartans, 
Athenians, and many of the confederates, had undertaken a naval expedition 
against Cyprus and Byzantium, 470 years before Christ. Offended with 
Pausanias (who about this time was recalled by Sparta herself), the allies, 
especially the lonians, entreated the Athenians, as being of a kindred tribe, 
to assume the supreme command. Those who were of the Peloponnesus, 
took no |>art in this act. The Athenians were very willing to comply with 
Ihc request ; and the confederates never received another Spartan general. 
From this account, the following points are to be inferred : 1. The Atheni- 
ans obtained the same chief command, which had been exercised by the 
Spartans. 2. The states which conferred that command on Athens, must 
have been islands and maritime towns, as the whole expedition was a naval 
one. 3. Although not all who shared in it, were lonians, yet the relationship 
of tribes had a great influence on the choice. 4. The command conferred on 
the Athenians, embraced therefore by no means all the Grecian cities, nor 
even all, which had been united against Persia; as the Poloponnesians 
expressly withdrew from it, and the other states of the interior took no part 
in the matter. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 151 

In this manner, Athens was placed at the head 
of a large part of Greece, confederated against Persia; 
and from this moment its supremacy begins to have 
a practical importance for Greece. The circumstan- 
ces under which this chief command was conferred on 
Athens, showed that nothing more was intended to 
be given, than the conduct of the war that was still 
to be continued with united efforts against the Per- 
sians. No government of the allied states, no inter- 
ference in their internal affairs, was intended. But 
how much was included in the conduct of a war 
against a very powerful enemy from the very nature 
of the office ; and how much more for them who 
knew how to profit by it. As long as the war against 
the Persian king was continued, could it be much less 
than the control of all external affairs ? For in a 
period like that, what other relations could have em- 
ployed the practical politics of the Greeks. Or if 
any others existed, were they not at least intimately 
connected with that war? And as for the grand 
questions respecting the duration of the war and the 
conditions of peace, did they not depend on those 
who stood at the head of the undertaking? 

The first use which Athens made of this superior 
command, was the establishment of a general treas- 
ury, as well as a common fleet, for the carrying on of 
the war ; while it was fixed, which of the allies should 
contribute money and ships, and in what proportion. 
The Athenians, says Thucydides,^ now first estab- 
lished the office of treasurersf of Greece ; who were 
to collect the tribute^ as the sums which were raised, 

♦ Thucyd. i. 96 f ''E?^}.r]yorct/Ai»i. 



152 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

were denominated (and names are not matters of 
indifference in politics ); the amount of which was 
then fixed at four hundred and sixty talents.* Yet to 
avoid every thing which could seem odious, the treas- 
urer was not directly fixed at Athens, but at Delos, 
in the temple of Apollo ; where the assemblies also 
were held. But the most important circumstance was, 
that the most just of the Grecians, Aristides, was 
appointed treasurer ; and the office of assigning to 
each state its proportion of the general contribution, 
was entrusted to him.f No one in those days made 
any complaint ; and Aristides died as poor as he had 
lived. 

Two remarks are here so naturally suggested, 
that they hardly need any proof; the first is, that 
Athens, by means of this regulation, laid the founda- 
tion of its greatness ; the second is, that hardly any 
government, and how much less a popular government, 
could long withstand the temptation to abuse this 
power. But a third remark must be made in connex- 
ion with the preceding observation ; Athens gained 
the importance which she had for the world, by 
means of her supremacy over the other states. It was 
that, which made her conspicuous in the history of 
mankind. The importance which she gained, was 
immediately of a political nature ; hut every thing of 
a vast and noble character, for which Athens was 
distinguished, was inseparably connected with her 
political greatness. We will disguise no one of the 
abuses, of which the consequences were finally most 
fatal to Athens herself ; but we cannot limit our view 

♦ Full ^350,000. t Plutarch. Aristid. Op. ii. p. 635. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 153 

to the narrow range adopted by those, who make the 
abuses the criterion of their judgment. 

The allies, by committing the conduct of the war 
to Athens, expressly acknowledged that city to be 
the first in Greece, and this was silently acknowledg- 
ed by the other states ; for Sparta, which alone was 
able to rival it in strength, voluntarily w^ithdrew into 
the background.* Athens had the consciousness of 
deserving this rank ; for the freedom of Greece had 
had its origin there. But it was desirous of preserving 
its high station, not by force alone ; but by showing it- 
self to be the first in every thing, which according to 
the views of the Greeks could render a city illustrious. 
Its temples were now to be the most splendid ; its works 
of art the noblest, its festivals and its theatres the 
most beautiful and the most costly. But for the suprem- 
acy of Athens, Pericles never could have found there 
a sphere of action worthy of himself; no Phidias, no 
Polygnotus, no Sophocles could have flourished. 
For the public spirit of the Athenian proceeded from 
the consciousness, that he was the first among the 
Grecians ; and nothing but that public spirit could 
have encouraged and rewarded the genius, wiiich was 
capable of producing such works as theirs. Perhaps 
their very greatness prepared the fall of Athens ; but 
if they were doomed to suffer for it, the gratitude due 
to them from mankind, is not on that account dimin- 
ished. 

The supremacy of Athens was, as the nature of 
the whole confederation makes apparent, immediately 
connected with its naval superiority ; for the allied 
states were all islands or maritime cities. Thus the 

♦Thucyd.i. 95. 

20 



154 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

expressions of supreme command (yiysfAovia) and do- 
minion of the sea,* that is, the dominion of the M^e- 
an and Ionian seas (for the ambition of the Athenians 
extended no farther), came to signify the same thing. 
This dominion of the sea was therefore, in its origin, 
not only not blameable, but absolutely essential to the 
attainment of the object proposed. The security of 
the Greeks against the attacks of the Persians de- 
pended on it ; and so too did the continuance of the 
confederacy. We cannot acquit Athens of the charge 
of having afterwards abused her navi.l superiority; 
but he, who considers the nature of such alliances and 
the difficulty of holding them together, will concede, 
that in practice it would be almost impossible to avoid 
the appearance of abusing such a supremacy ; since 
the same things, which to one party seem an abuse, 
in the eyes of the other, are only the necessary means 
to secure the end. 

When the sea was made secure, and no attack was 
farther to be feared from the Persians, — how could it 
be otherwise, than that the continuance of the war, and 
consequently the contributions made for that purpose, 
should be to many of them unnecessarily oppressive? 
And how could it be avoided, that some should feel 
themselves injured, or be actually injured in the con- 
tributions exacted of them. The consequences of all 
this were, on the one side a refusal to pay the contri- 
butions, and on the other, severity in collecting 
them ;t and as they continued to be refused, this was 

t'-'liie Alli«jiiiiins," says Thncydides i. 99, "exacted the contributions 
with seventy ; and were the more oppressive to the allies, as these were 
unaccustomed to oppression." But if the Athenians had not insisted on 
the pBymt-iit of them with severity, how soon would the whole confederacy 
have fallen into ruin. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 155 

considered as a revolt, and wars followed with sev- 
eral of the allies ; at first with the island Naxos ;* 
then with Thasus,t with Samos,f and others. ^ But 
those who had been overcome, were no longer treated 
as allies, but as subjects ; and thus the relation of 
Athens to the several states was different ; for a 
distinction was made between the voluntary confede- 
rates and the subjects. || The latter were obliged to 
pay in money an equivalent for the ships, which 
they were bound to furnish ; for Athens found it more 
advantageous to have its ships built in this manner, 
at its own charge. But the matter did not rest here. 
The sum of the yearly tribute, fixed under Pericles 
at four hundred and sixty talents, was raised by Al- 
cibiadesIT to six hundred. When, during the Pelo- 
ponnesian war, x\thens suffered from the want of money, 
the tribute was changed into duties of fivG per centum 
on the value of all imported articles, collected by the 
Athenians in the harbours of the allies.*^ But the 
most oppressive of all, was perhaps the judiciary 

♦Thucyd. i. 98. t Thucyd. i. 100. 101. tThucyd. i. 116. 

§ The difference of tlie allies, and also the view taken by tlie Athenians 
of their supremacy, and of the oppression, with which they were charged, 
are no where more clearly developt- d, than in the speech of the Athenian 
ambassador in Camarina. Thucyd. vi. S3, etc. " The Chians," says he, 
"and Methymtiaeans (in Lesbos) need only furnish ships. From most of the 
others, we exact the tribute with severity. Others, though inhabitants of 
islands, and easy to be taken, are yet entirely volutitary allies, on account 
of the situation of tlieir islands round the Pelopontiesu-." 

II The etvTovofzot and the u^^xaa/, both of whom were still bound to pay the taxes, 
(i'^oTtXiis) Mr. Manso, in his acute illustration of the Hegifnonio , Sparta B. iii. 
Beylage 12. 13. distinguishes three classes; those who contributed ships, but no 
money ; those who contributed nothing but money ; and those who were at once sub- 
ject and tributary. The nature of things seems to require, that it should have been 
so ; yet Thucydides vi. 69. makes no difference between the two last. 

If Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 5-3">. ♦♦ Thucyd. vii. 28. 



[56 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

power, whicli Athens usurped over tlie allies ; not 
merely in the difltrences, which arose between the 
states, but also in private suits.* Individuals were 
obliged to go to Athens to transact their business, and 
in consequence, to the great advantage of the Athe- 
nian householders, innkeepers, and the like, a multi- 
tude of foreigners were constantly in that city, in 
order to bring their affairs to an issue. 

It is therefore obvious, that the nature of the 
Athenian supremacy was changed. It had been at 
first a voluntary association, and now it had become, 
for far the larger number of the states that shared in 
it, a forced one. That several of the confederates 
were continually striving to break free from the 
alliance, has been shown by the examples cited 
above ; but it is easy to perceive, how difficult, or 
rather how impossible it was, to effect a general union 
between them against Athens. If they had been desirous 
of attempting it, how great were the means possessed 
by Athens, of anticipating them. Yet there was one 
moment, when, but for their almost inconceivable want 
of forethought, an attempt might have justly been 
expected from them : and that period was the close 
of the war with Persia. f The Greeks framed their 
articles in the treaty of peace ; and had nothing farther 
to fear from the Persians. The whole object of the con- 
federacy was therefore at an end. And yet we do not 
hear that any voices were tlxen raised against Athens. 
On the other side, it may with propriety be asked, if 
justice did not require of the Athenians, to volun- 
tarily restore to the allies their liberty. But this 

• S^c, upon this, subject, Xenopb. de Rep. Allien. Op. 694. ed. Leuticlav. 
f In ibe \tai- 449 before Cbribt. 



THE PERSIAN WARS AND THEIR CONSEQUENCES. 157 

question will hardly be put by a practical states- 
man. To free the allies from their subordination 
would have been to deprive Athens of its splendor ; 
to dry up a chief source of the revenues of the 
republic ; perhaps to pave the way to its ruin. 
What Athenian statesman would have dared to make 
such a proposition. Had he made it, could he have 
carried it through ? Would he not rather have 
ensured his own downfall ? There are examples 
where single rulers, weary of power, have freely 
resigned it ; but a people never yet voluntarily gave 
up authority over subject nations. 

Perhaps these remarks may contribute to rectify 
the judgments of Isocrates,* in his celebrated accusa- 
tion of the dominion of the sea ;t which he consider- 
ed as the source of all the misery of Athens and of 
Greece. The views which he entertained were cer- 
tainly just; but the evils proceeded from the abuses; 
and it were just as easy to show, that his celebrated 
Athens, but for that dominion, never would have 
afforded him a subject for his panegyrics. 

But how those evils could result from that abuse ; 
how they prepared the downfall of Athens, when 
Sparta appeared as the deliverer of Greece ; how the 
rule of these deliverers, much worse than that of the 
first oppressors, inflicted on Greece wounds, which 

♦We shall be obliged to recur frequently to Isocratcs. It is impossible to 
read the venerable orator, who was filled with the purest patriotism which a 
Grecian could feel, without respecting and loving him. But he was a politi- 
cal writer, wiihout being a practical statesman ; and, like St. Pierre and 
other excellent men of the same class, he believed much to be possible 
which was not so. The historian must consult him with deliberation. This 
panegyrist of antiquity often reL^arded it in too advantageous a light, and is, 
besides, little concerned about the accuracy of his historical deliQeatious. 

flsQcrat. Op. p. 172. ed. Sleph. 



138 CHAPTER EIGHTH. 

were not only deep, but incurable ; in general, 
the causes which produced the ruin of that country, 
remain to furnish a subject for investigation in one of 
the later chapters, to which we must make our way 
through some previous researches. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 159 



CHAPTER NINTH. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 

In the present chapter, we do not undertake to 
give an outline of the several Grecian states ; but 
rather to delineate the general characteristics of the 
Grecian forms of government. Such a general inves- 
tigation seems the more essential, as it would obvious- 
ly be impossible to analyze each one of them. 

With respect to a nation, in which every thing 
that could be done in public, was public ; where every 
thing great and glorious was especially the result of 
this public life ; where even private life was identified 
with that of the public ; where the individual did but 
live with, and for the state, this investigation must have 
a much higher degree of interest, than if it related to 
any other, in which the line of division is distinctly 
drawn between public and private life. He who will 
judge of the Grecians, must be acquainted with the 
constitutions of their states ; and he must not only 
consider the inanimate forms, as they are taught us 
by the learned compilers and writers on what arc 
called Grecian Antiquities ; but regard them as they 
were regarded by the Greeks themselves. 

If the remark, which we made above,* that the 
Grecian states, with few exceptions, were cities with 
their districts, and their constitutions, therefore, the 
constitutions of cities ; if this remark needed to be 

♦In the fifth chapter. 



160 CHAPTER NINTH. 

fartlier confirmed, it could be done by referring to the 
fact, that the Greeks designate the ideas of state 
and of city by the same word.^ We must therefore 
ahvays bear in mind the idea of city constitutions, 
and never forget that those of which we are treating, 
not only had nothing in common with those of the 
large empires of modern times, but not even with those 
of the smaller principalities. If for the sake of givino; 
a distinct representation, we were to compare them 
with any thing in modern history, we could best compare 
them, as the character of the Italian cities of the middle 
age is hardly more familiar than that of the Grecian, 
with the imperial towns in Germany, especially in the 
days of their prosperity, previous to the thirty years' 
w ar, before they were limited in the freedom of their 
movements by the vicinity of more powerful mon- 
archical states ; were it not that the influence of the 
dilference of religion created a dissimilarity. 

And yet this comparison may throw some light on 
the great variety, which is observed in those states, 
in spite of the apparent uniformity which existed 
among the Grecian states (as all were necessarily 
similar in some respects), and which equally existed 
in those German cities. And the comparison will be 
still more justified, if we add, tiiat the extent of ter- 
ritory was as diflerent among the Grecian cities, and 
yet on the whole was nearly the same. There were 
few, which possessed a larger territory, than formerly 
belonged to Dim and Nuremberg; but in Greece as 
in (icrniany, the prosperity of the city did not depend 

• HiXttf riiilas. Respecting tlic meaning of Tokut and the ditlerence be- 
twcci. -rekis and U*of, stale and nalion, consult Aristot. Folil. Op. ii. p. 235, 
ed. Casunb. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN CITIES. 161 

on the extent of its territory. Corinth hardly pos- 
sessed a larger district than that of Augsburg ; and 
yet both rose to an eminent degree of opulence and 
culture. 

But great as this variety in the constitutions may 
have been (and we shall illustrate this subject more 
fully hereafter), they all coincided in one grand 
point. They all were free constitutions ; that is, 
they allowed of no rulers, whom the people as a body, 
or certain classes of the people, could not call to 
account ;* he, who usurped such authority, was, in 
the language of the Greeks, a tyrant. In this the 
idea is contained, that the state shall govern itself; 
and not he governed by an individual ; and of course 
a very different view of the state was taken from the 
modern European notion. The view of the Greeks 
was entirely opposed to that of those modern politi- 
cians, who conceive of the state as a mere machine ; 
and of those also, who would make of it nothing but an 
institution of police. The Greeks regarded the state, 
no less than each individual, as a moral person. 
Moral powers have influence in it, and decide its 
plans of operation. Hence it becomes the great object 
of him who would manage a state, to secure to reason 
the superiority over passion and desire ; and the 
attainment of virtue and morality, is in this sense an 
object of the state, just as it should be of the indi- 
vidual. 

If with these previous reflections we proceed to 
investigate the laws of the Greeks, they will present 
themselves to our view in their true light. The 

*Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 251, 282. The magistrates must be responsible 
for their administration, v-riuhvot, as the Greeks expressed it. 

21 



16ii CHAPTER NINTH. 

constitutions of their cities, like those of the moderns, 
were framed by necessity, and developed by circum- 
stances. But as abuses are much sooner felt in small 
states and towns, than in large ones, the necessity 
of reforms was early felt in many of them ; and this 
necessity occasioned lawgivers to make their appear- 
ance, much before the spirit of speculation had Been 
occupied on the subject of politics. The objects 
therefore of those lawgivers, were altogether practi- 
cal ; and, without the knowledge of any philosophical 
system, they endeavoured to accomplish them by 
means of reflection and experience. A commonwealth 
could never have been conceived of by them, except as 
governing itself; and on this foundation titey rested 
their codes. It never occurred to them, to look for 
the means of that self-government, to nothing but the 
forms of government ; and although those forms were 
not left unnoticed in their codes, yet they w^ere noticed 
only to a certain degree. No Grecian lawgiver ever 
thought of abolishing entirely the ancient usage, and 
becoming, according to the phrase now in vogue, the 
framers of a new constitution. In giving laws, they 
only reformed. Lycurgus, Solon, and the rest, so far 
from abolishing what usage had established, endeav- 
oured to preserve every thing which could be pre- 
served : and only added, in part, several new institu- 
tions, and in part made for the existing ones better 
regulations. If we possessed therefore the whole of 
the laws of Solon, we should by no means find them 
to contain a perfect constitution. But to compensate 
for that, they embraced, not only the rights of indi- 
viduals, but also morals, in a much higher degree, 
than the latter can be embraced in the view of any 



CONSTITUTIONS OP THE ORECIAN CITIES. 163 

modern lawgiver. The organization of private life, 
and hence the education of youth,* on which the 
prevalence and continuance of good morals depend, 
formed one of their leading objects. They were deep- 
ly convinced, that that moral person, the state, would 
otherwise be incapable of governing itself. To this 
it must be added, that in these small commonwealths, 
in these towns with their territories, many regula- 
tions could be made and executed, which could not 
be put into operation in a powerful and widely 
extended nation. Whether these regulations were 
always good, and always well adapted to their 
purpose, is quite another question ; it is our duty at 
present to show, from what point of view those law- 
givers were accustomed to regard the art of regulating 
the state; and the means of preserving and directing 

it.t 

Whenever a commonwealth or city governs itself, 
it is a fundamental idea, that the supreme power 
resides with its members, with the citizens. But it 
may rest with the citizens collectively, or only with 
certain classes, or perhaps only with certain families. 
Thus there naturally arose among the Greeks that 
difference, which they designated by the names of 
Aristocracies and Democracies ; and to one of these 
two classes, they referred all their constitutions. 
But it is not easy to draw a distinct line between ihe 
two. When we are speaking of the meaning which 
they bore in practical politics, we must beware of 
taking them in that signification, which was after- 
wards given them by the speculative politicians, by 

♦ Aristot. Polit. Op. ii. p. 301, 330. 

\ This taken togeiher, forms what the Greeks called political science — 



164 CHAPTER NINTH. 

Aristotle* and others. In their practical politics, the 
Greeks no doubt connected certain ideas with those 
denominations ; but the ideas were not very distinctly 
defined ; and the surest way of erring would be, to 
desire to define thtni more accurately than was done 
by the Greeks themselves. The fundamental idea of 
democracy was, that all citizens, as such, should 
enjoy equal rights in the administration of the state ; 
and yet a perfect equality existed in very few of the 
cities. This equality was commonly limited to a par- 
ticipation in the popular assemblies and the courts.f 
A government did not cease to be a democracy, though 
the poorer class were entirely excluded from all ma- 
gistracies, and their votes of less weight in the popular 
assemblies. On the other hand, an aristocracy always 
presupposed exclusive privileges of individual classes 
or families. But these were very different and vari- 
ous. There were hereditary aristocracies, where, as 
in Sparta, the highest dignities continued in a few 
families. But this was seldom the case. It was 
commonly the richer r.nd more distinguished class, 
which obtained the sole administration of the state ; 
and it was either wealth, or birth, or both together, 
that decided. J But wealth consisted not so much 
in monc} , as in land ; and it was estimated by real 
estate. This wealth was chiefly exhibited, in ancient 
times, in the sums expended on horses. Those whose 

♦If here, in investigating the practical meaning of those words, we can 
make no use of the theoretical definitions of Aristotle in his Politics, we 
would not by any means give up the right of citing him as of authority in 
the history of the Greek constitutions, in so far as he himself speaks of them. 
And whose testimony on these subjects deserves more weight than that of 
the man, who, in a work which has unt'ortunately been lost, described and 
analyzed all the known forms of govorument of his time, two hundred and 
fifty-five in n imber. 

t Arislot. Polit. iii. 1. I Aristot. PoUt. iv. 6. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN CITIES. 165 

means were sufficient, constituted the cavalry of the 
citizens ; and these formed the richer part of the 
soldiery, which consisted only of citizens or militia. 
It is therefore easy to understand, how it was possible 
that the circumstance, whether the district of a city 
possessed much pasture land, could have had so much 
influence, in practical politics, on the formation of the 
constitution.^ It was therefore these nobles, the 
Eupatridse and Optimates, who, though they did not 
wholly exclude the people from a share in the legisla- 
tion, endeavoured to secure to themselves the magis- 
tracies, and the seats in the courts of justice; and 
wherever this was the case, there was what the Greeks 
termed an aristocracy.f 

In cities, where wealth is for the most part meas- 
ured by possessions in lands, it is almost unavoidable 
that not only a class of great proprietors should rise 
up ; but that this inequality should constantly increase ; 
and landed estates come finally into the hands of a 
few families.} In an age, when there were much 
fewer mechanic professions, and when those few were 
carried on chiefly by slaves, the consequences of this 
inequality were much more oppressive ; and it was 
therefpre one of the chief objects of the lawgivers, 
either to prevent this evil, or, where it already exist- 
ed, to remedy it ; as otherwise a revolution of the 
state would sooner or later have inevitably followed. 

♦Aristotle cites examples of it in Eretria, Clialcis, and other cities. 
Polit. iv. 3. 

t Oligarchy was distinguished from this. But though both words were in 
use, no other line can be drawn between them, than the greater or smaller 
number of Optimates, who had the government in their hands. That this 
remark is a true one appears from the definitions, to which Aristotle, Polit. 
iii. 7, is obliged to have recourse, in order to divide them from one another. 

t This was the case in Thnrii, Aristot. Polit. v. 7. 



166 CHAPTER NINTH. 

In this manner we may understand why a new and 
equal division of the hind among the citizens was 
made;-^" why the acquisition of lands by purchase 
or gift was forbidden, and only permitted in the 
way of inheritance and of marriage :t why a limit 
was fixed to the amount of land, which a single citi- 
zen could possess. J But with all these and other 
similar precautions, it was not possible to hinder 
entirely the evil, against which they were intended 
to guard ; and hence were prepared the causes of 
those numerous and violent commotions, to which all 
the Grecian states were more or less exposed. 

In the constitutions of cities, however they may 
be formed, the right of citizenship is the first and 
most important. He who does not possess it, may 
perhaps live in the city under certain conditions, and 
enjoy the protection of its laws ;5 but he is not, 
properly speaking, a member of the state ; and can 
enjoy neither the same rights, nor the same respect, 
as the citizen. The regulations, therefore, respect- 
ing sharing in the right of citizenship, were necessa- 
rily strict ; but they were very different in the several 
Grecian cities. In some, the full privileges of citi- 
zenship were secured, if both the parents had been 
citizens ;|| in others, it was necessary to trace such a 
descent through two or three generations ;^ whilst in 

* As in Sparta, by the laws of Lycu%us. 

t As in Sparta, and also among the Locrians, Aristot. Polit. ii. 7. 

\ Aristot. 1. c. 

§ These f^iraiKei itiquilhu, were formed in almost all the Grecian cities. 
It was common lor lliem to pay for protection, and to bear other civil 
burdens. 

II As, for example, at Athens. 

H As in Larissa, Aristot. Polit. iii. 2. So too iu Massilia. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN CITIES. 167 

others, no respect was had, except to the descent of 
the mother.* There were some cities which very 
rarely and with dlfTiculty could be induced to confer 
the right of citizenship; whilst in others foreigners 
were admitted to it with readiness. In these cases, 
accidental circumstances not unfrequently decided ; 
and the same city was sometimes compelled to ex- 
change its early and severe principles, for milder 
ones, if the number of the ancient citizens came to be 
too small. t In colonies, the milder principles were 
of necessity followed ; since there might arrive from 
the mother country a whole company of new emi- 
grants, whom it would either be impossible or inex- 
pedient to reject. And hence we may explain what 
is so frequently observable in the colonies, that the 
wards of the citizens were divided according to their 
arrival from the different mother countries ; one of 
the most fruitful sources of internal commotions, 
and even of the most violent political revolutions. J 
In free cities, the constitution and the administra- 
tion are always connected in an equally eminent 
degree with the division of the citizens. But here 
again we find a vast difference among the Greeks. 
We first notice those states, which made a dis- 
tinction in the privileges of the inhabitants of the 
chief town, and of the villages and countiy. There 
were some Grecian states, where the inhabitants of 
the city enjoyed great privileges ; and the rest of 
their countrymen stood in a subordinate relation to 

♦Aristot. Pol it iii. 5. 

t Thus at Athens, Clisthenes received a Iari,'e number of foreigners into 
the class of citizens. 

i Examples of it at Sybaris, Thurium, Byzantium, and other pluces, are 
cited by Aristotle, Polit. v. 3. 



168 CHAPTEU NINTH. 

them ;* whilst in others there was no distinction of 
rights between the one and the other.f The other 
divisions of the citizens were settled partly by birth, 
according to the ward to which a man happened to 
belong :i partly from his place of residence, accord- 
ing to the district in which he resided ;^ and partly 
from property or the census, according to the class in 
which he was reckoned. Though not in all, yet in 
many states, the ward, and the place of residence, 
were attached to the name of each individual ; which 
was absolutely necessary in a nation, that had no 
family names, or where they at least were not gener- 
ally introduced. There is no need of mentioning 
how important was the difference in fortune ; as the 
proportion of the public burden to be borne by each 
one was decided according to his wealth ; and the 
kind of service to be required in war, whether in the 
cavalry or the infantry, and whether in heavy or light 
armour, was regulated by the same criterion ; as will 
ever be the case in countries, where there is no other 
armed force than the militia formed of the citizens. 
On these divisions of the citizens, the organization 
of their assemblies {i?cKXfj(riut) was founded. These 
assemblies, which were a natural result of city gov- 
ernments, were, according to the views of the Greeks, 
so essential an institution, that they probably existed 
in every Grecian city, though not always under the 
same regulations. Yet the manner in which they 
were held in every city except Athens and Sparta, 
is almost wholly unknown to us. The nature of the 

♦ IhMice in Lacoiiia, (he difference between Spartans and LacedasmonianSj 
(r«^<«<»fl4). So also in Crete and in Argos. 

t As at Atliens. | According to the f c/'Acm; (or wards.) 

^ According to the 2j)^M; (or cautous). 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 169 

case required, that the manner in which they were to 
be held, should every where be established by rule. 
It was the custom to give to but one magistrate, the 
right of convoking and opening them.*^ But we do 
not know in what manner the votes were taken in the 
several cities, whether merely by polls, or by the 
wards and other divisions of the people. And in this 
too, there was a great difference, whether all citi- 
zens had the right of voting, or whether a certain 
census was first requisite.! In most of the cities, 
regular assemblies seem to have been held on fixed 
days, and extraordinary meetings also to have been 
held. J To attend was regarded as the duty of every 
citizen ; and as the better part were apt to remain 
away, especially in stormy times, absence was often 
made a punishable offence.^ It may easily be sup- 
posed, that the decisions were expressed in an estab- 
lished form, written down and preserved, and some- 
times engraved on tables. But although the forms 
were fixed, the subjects which might come before the 
assembly, were by no means so clearly defined. The 
principle which was acted upon, was, that subjects 
which were important for the community, were to be 
brought before it. But how uncertain is the very 
idea of what is, or is not important. How much 
too depends on the form which the constitution has 
taken at a certain period ; whether the power of the 

♦In the heroic age, it was the privilege of the kings to convoke the as>- 
sembly. See above, in the fourth chapter. 

t That a great variety prevailed in this respect, is clear from Aristot. 
Polit. iv. 13. 

^This was the case in Athens and Sparta. 

§ This is the case, says Aristotle, Polit. iv. 13, in the oligarchic, or aristo- 
cratical cities; while on the contrary, in the democratic, the poor were well 
j)aid for appearing in (he assemblie-'. 

22 



^-.Q CHAPTEU NINTH. 

senate, or of certain magistrates preponderates. We 
find even in the history of Rome, that questions of 
the utmost interest to the people, questions of 
war and peace, were sometimes submitted to the 
people, and sometimes not. No less considerable 
difference prevailed in the Grecian cities. Yet 
writers are accustomed to comprehend the subjects 
belonging to the common assemblies in three grand 
classes ^ The first embraces legislation ; for what 
the Greeks called a law (.o'/xo?), was always a decree 
passed, or confirmed by the commons ; although it is 
difficult, we should rather say impossible, to define 
with accuracy the extent of this legislation. The 
second embraces the choice of magistrates. This 
right, although not all magistrates were appointed by 
election, was regarded, and justly regarded as one 
of the most important privileges. For the power of 
the commons is preserved by nothing more effectually, 
than by making it necessary for those who would 
obtain a place, to apply for it to them. The third 
class was formed by the popular courts of justice, 
which, as we shall hereafter take occasion to show, 
were of the highest importance as a support of the 

democracy. 

The consequences which the discussion and the 
decision of the most important concerns in the assem- 
blies of the whole commons must inevitably have had, 
are so naturally suggested, that they hardly need to 
be illustrated at large. How could it have escaped 
those lawgivers, that to entrust this unlimited power 
to the commons, was not much less than to pave the 
way for the rule of the populace, if we include under 
that name the mass of indigent citizens. 

♦The chief passage on this subject is in Aristot. Polit. iv. 14, 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 171 

The most natural means of guarding against this 
evil, would without doubt have been the choice of 
persons, possessed of plenary powers, to represent 
the citizens. But it is obvious, that the system of 
representation has the least opportunity of coming to 
perfection in city governments. It is the fruit of the 
enlarged extent of states ; where it is impossible for all 
to meet in the assemblies. But in cities with a narrow 
territory, what could lead to such a form ; since neither 
distance nor numbers made it difficult for the citizens 
to appear personally in the assemblies. It is true, 
that the alliances of several cities, as of the Bceotian 
or the Acha&an, led to the idea of sending deputies 
to the assemblies ; but in those meetings, the internal 
affairs of the confederates were never discussed ; they 
were reserved for the consideration of each city ; and 
the deliberations of the whole body, related only to 
general affairs with respect to foreign relations. But 
a true system of representation can never be formed 
in that manner ; the true sphere of action of a legis- 
lative body, is to be found in the internal affairs of 
the nation. 

It w^as therefore necessary to think of other means 
of meeting the danger apprehended from the rule of 
the populace ; and those means were various. Aris- 
totle expressly remarks,^ that there were cities, in which 
no general assemblies of the citizens were held ; and 
only such citizens appeared, as had been expressly 
convoked or invited. These obviously formed a class 
of aristocratic governments. But even in the demo- 

♦Aiistot. Polit. iii. 1. A similar regulation existed in several German 
imperial towns ; as, for example, in Bremen, where the most distinguished 
citizens were invited by the senate to attend the convention of citizens ; 
and of coarse no uninvited person made his appearance. It is to be regret- 
ted, that Aristotle has cited no Grecian city as an examplf 



172 CHAPTEll NINTH. 

cracics, means* were taken, partly to have the impor- 
tant business transacted in smaller divisions, before 
the commons came to vote upon it ; partly to limit the 
subjects, which were to be brought before them ; part- 
ly to reserve the revision, if not of all, yet of some of 
the decrees, to another peculiar board ; and partly, 
and most frequently, to name another deliberate as- 
sembly, whose duty it was to consider every thing 
which was to come before the commons, and so far to 
prepare the business, that nothing remained for the 
commons, but to accept or reject the measures pro- 
posed. 

This assembly was called by the Greeks, a council 
((BovXtj)- We are acquainted with its internal regu- 
lations only at Athens ; but there is no reason to 
doubt, that in several Grecian states, a similar assem- 
bly existed under the same name.f If we may draw 
inferences respecting its nature in other stales from 
what it was at Athens, it consisted of a numerous 
committee of the citizens annually chosen ; its mem- 
bers, taken after a fixed rule from each of the corpo- 
rations, were chosen by lot ; but they could not be- 
come actual members without a previous examination. 
For in no case was it of so much importance as here, 
to effect the exclusion of all but honest men ; who, 
being themselves interested in the preservation of the 
state and its constitution, might decide on the busi- 
ness presented to them, with prudence and modera- 
tion. In Athens at least, the greatest pains were 

♦Sec ill proof what follows, Aristot. Polit. iv. 14. Op. ii. p. 286. 
t As at Argos and Mantinca. Thucyd. v. 47. So too in Chios. Tbucyd 
viii. i4. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 173 

taken with the internal organization of tl»is body ; so 
that it seems to us, as will appear from the investi- 
gations respecting this state, to have been almost too 
artificial. Regulations, similar in kind, though not 
exactly the same, were probably established in the 
other cities, where similar wants and circumstances 
prevailed. It is easy to perceive, that the preser- 
vation of the internal liberties of such a body against 
the encroachments of parties and too powerful indi- 
viduals, made such regulations essential. It was 
probably to promote this end, that the appointments 
to the council were made only for the year.* It 
prevented the committee from becoming a faction, and 
thus assuming the whole administration of the state. 
But beside this, another great advantage was gained ; 
for in this manner, by far the larger number of dis- 
tinguished and upright citizens became acquainted 
with the affairs and the government of the state. 

In other cities, instead of this annual council, there 
was a senate (yg^oixr/a)? which had no periodical 
change of its members, but formed a permanent board. 
Its very name expresses that it was composed of the 
elders ; and what was more natural, than to look for 
good counsel to the experience of maturity ? The 
rule respecting age may have been very different in 
the several cities, and perhaps in many no rule on 
the subject existed. But in others, it was enforced 
with rigorous accuracy. The immediate object was 
to have in it a board of counsel ; but its sphere of 
action was by no means so limited. In Sparta, the 
assembly of elders had its place by the side of the 

♦This explains why Aristotle, Polit. iv. 15, calls the (iovxh an institution 
favourable to the popular form of government. 



174 CHAPTER NINTH. 

kings. The senate of Corinth is mentioned under the 
same name ;^ that of Massiliaf under a different one, 
but its members held their places for life ; and in 
how many other cities may there have been a council 
of elders, of which history makes no mention, just as 
it is silent respecting the internal regulations in those 
just enumerated.! Even in cities which usually had 
no such senate, an extraordinary one was sometimes 
appointed in extraordinary cases, where good advice 
was needed. This took place in Athens after the 
great overthrow in Sicily.^} 

Besides an assembly of citizens, or town meeting, 
and a senate, a Grecian city had its magistrates. 
Even the ancient politicians were perplexed to express 
with accuracy, the idea of magistrates. || For not all 
to whom public business was committed by the citi- 
zens, could be called magistrates ; for otherwise the 
ambassadors and priests would have belonged to that 
class. In modern constitutions, it is not seldom diffi- 
cult to decide, w ho ought to be reckoned in the num- 
ber of magistrates, as wdll be apparent from calling 
to mind the inferior officers. But no important mis- 
understanding can arise, if we are careful to affix to 

♦Plutarch, Op. li. p. 177. t Strabo, iii p. 124. 

t There was perhaps uo one Grecian city, in which such a council did 
not exist, for the nature of things made it almost indispensable. They were 
most commonly called ^evkh and yitourla, and these words may often have 
been confounded. For although the /Sai/Xn in Athens was a body chosen from 
the citizens but for a year, and the yi^oufiet of Sparta was a permanent coun- 
cil, we cannot safely infer, that the terms, when used, always implied such a 
difterence. In Crete, e. g. the council of elders was called .6«j;X»i, according 
to Aristot. Polit. ii. 10. though in its organization it resembled the yx^avrm of 
Sparta. § Thucyd. viii. i. 

il See, on this subject, Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. The practical politicians, no 
lessthan the theorists, were perplexed in defining the word. An important 
passage may be found in ^schin. in Ctesipbont. iii. p. 397 etc, Reisk. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 175 

the word the double idea of possessing a part of the 
executive power ; and of gaining, in consequence of 
the importance of the business entrusted to them, a 
higher degree of consideration, than belonged to the 
common citizen. 

In the republican constitutions of the Greeks a 
second idea was attached to that of a magistracy ; 
it was necessary to call every magistrate to account 
respecting the affairs of his office.* He who went 
beyond this rule, ceased to be a magistrate and be- 
came a tyrant. The magistrate was therefore com- 
pelled to recognise the sovereignty of the people. 
This certainly implied, that an account was to be 
given to the commons ; but as in such constitutions 
not every thing was systematically established, there 
were some states, in which separate boards, as that of 
the Ephori in Sparta, usurped the right of calling the 
magistrates to account, f 

In the inquiry respecting magistrates, says Aris- 
totle, J several questions are to be considered ; How 
many magistrates there are^ and how great is their 
authority ? How long they continue in office, and 
whether they ought to continue long? Farther, — 
Who ought to be appointed ? and by whom? and how? 
These are questions, which of themselves show^ that 
republican states are had in view ; and which lead 
us to anticipate that great variety, which prevailed 
on these points in the Grecian constitutions. We 
desire to treat first of the last questions. 

According to the whole spirit of the Grecian con- 
stitutions, it cannot be doubted, that their leading 

♦They were of necessity uriv^vvm. Aristot. Polit. ii. 12. 
t There were magistrates appointed on purpose, called tihveXtyirrxt. Aris- 
tot. Polit. vi. 8. t Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. 



176 CHAPTER NINTH. 

principle was, that all magistrates must be appointed 
by the people. The right of choosing the magistrates^ 
was always regarded, and justly regarded, as an im- 
portant part of the freedom of a citizen.* But 
although this principle was predominant, it still had 
its exceptions. There were states, in which the first 
offices were hereditary in certain families.f But as 
we have already taken occasion to observe, this was a 
rare case ; and where one magistracy was hereditary- 
all the rest were elective ; at Sparta, though the 
royal dignity was hereditary, the Ephori were chosen. 
But beside the appointment by election, the custom 
very commonly prevailed of appointing by lot. And 
our astonishment is very justly excited by this meth- 
od, which not unfrequently commits to chance, the 
appointment to the first and most weighty employ- 
ments in the sta^e. But even in several of the Ger- 
man imperial towns, the lot had an important share 
in the appointment to offices. It is uninfluenced by 
favour, birth, and wealth. And therefore the nomi- 
nation of magistrates by lot, was considered by the 
Grecian politicians, as the surest characteristic of a 
democracy. J But where the appointment was left to 
be decided by that method, the decision was not 
always made solely by it. He on whom the lot fell, 
could still be subjected to a severe examination, and 
very frequently was so. And where some places 
were filled in this way, it was by no means pursued 
in the appointment to all. 

* Aristot. Polit. ii. 12. M>;S» ya^ rovrov, r«u rus d^Ku, ai^i7<rfixi xai tv^uvuvj 

\ As tlie kings in Sparta, 
t Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 177 

But in the election also, the greatest differences 
prevailed : since sometimes all classes, and some- 
times only particular ones took part in them.* To 
admit all citizens to vote, is one of the chief charac- 
teristics of a democracy ; and we know this was done 
not only in Athens, but in many other cities. But 
when the aristocratic and democratic party had once 
become distinct, endeavours were almost inevitably 
made to exclude the mass of the people from any 
share in the elections. For the aristocrat found 
nothing more humiliating, than to approach the com- 
mon citizen as a suppliant, before he could arrive at 
places of honour. Where the first step succeeded, 
the second soon followed ; and the magistrates them- 
selves supplied any vacant places in their board. 
This, says Aristotle,! is the peculiar mark of oligar- 
chy, and leads almost always to revolutions in the 
states. 

And who was eligible to office ? This question is 
still more important, than that respecting the electors; 
and an equally great difference prevailed on this 
point in the various states. The maxim, that men, 
to whom the control of the public affairs should be 
committed, must not only possess sufficient capacity, 
but must also be interested in the support of existing 
forms, is so obvious, that the principle of excluding 
the lower orders of the people from participating in the 
magistracies, could hardly seem otherwise than judi- 
cious and necessary.J But when it was adopted, it could 
seldom be preserved. When a state became flourishing 

♦Aristotle, 1. c. classifies these varieties. t Aristot. 1. c. 

I That not only Solon, but other lawgivers had adopted this regulation, 
is remarked by Aristotle, Polit. iii. U. 

23 



178 CHAPTER NINTH. 

and powerful, the people felt itself to be of more im- 
portance ;* and it was not always flattery of the 
populace, which in such times induced its leaders to 
abolish those restrictive laws, but a conviction of 
the impossibility of maintaining them. In an individ- 
ual case, such an unlimited freedom of choice can 
become very injurious ; but it is, on the whole, much 
less so, than it appears to be ; and the restrictions 
are apt to become pernicious. If it be birth, which 
forms the limiting principle, if a man must be of one 
of certain families in order to gain an office, it would 
be made directly impossible for men of talents to 
obtain them ; and this has often produced the most 
violent revolutions. If fortune be made the qualifica- 
tion,! this is in itself no criterion of desert. If it be 
age, want of energy is too often connected with riper 
experience. 

In most of the Grecian cities, there certainly 
existed a reason, why regard should be had to wealth; 
because that consisted almost always in real estate. 
But where the poor were excluded by no restrictive 
laws, they were obliged of their own accord, to retire 
from most of the magistracies. These offices were not 
lucrative ; on the contrary, considerable expenses 
were often connected with them.} There were no 
fixed salaries, as in our states ; and the prospect, 
which in Rome in a later period was so inviting to 
the magistrates, the administration of a province, did 
not exist in Greece. It was therefore impossible for the 
poorer class to press forward with eagerness to these 

♦ See, on ihis subject also, Arii-tot.I. c. 

t Muiiy places in Arislolle show, that this was the case in a large number 
of cities ; and under the most various regulations ; e. g. iv. 11. 

t As for buuquets, public buildings, festivals, &c. Aristot. Polit. vi. 8. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 179 

offices ; ill many cities there even existed a necessity 
of imposing a punishment, if the person elected would 
not accept the office committed to him.* It was far 
more the honour and the glory, than the gain, which 
gave a value to the magistrates. But the honour of 
being the first, or one of the first, among his fellow- 
citizens, is ^of many a more powerful excitement, than 
that which can be derived from emolument. 

In small republics, no other fear needs be enter- 
tained respecting the offices of magistrates, than lest 
certain families should gain the exclusive possession 
of them. This is what the Greeks meant by an oli- 
garchy,f when the number of such families remained 
small. These were with justice regarded as a cor- 
ruption of the constitutions. There may have been 
exceptions, and we find in history, examples both 
within and without Greece, where such states have 
been administered with moderation and wisdom. But 
more frequently experience has shown the contrary 
result. The precautions taken against this evil by 
the Grecians, were the same with those adopted in 
many of the German imperial towns ; persons connect- 
ed by blood, as father and son, or several brothers, 
could not at the same time be magistrates.} Con- 
nections by marriage are no where said to have ex- 
cluded from office ; on the contrary, it would be easier 
to find examples of brothers in law filling magistracies 
at the same time. J 

Most of the magistrates were chosen annually ; 
many for but half a year.|| This frequent renewal 

♦Aristot. Pollt. iv. 9. 

J Not only Aris-tot. iv. 6. but many passages in Thucydides ; as e. g. viii. 82. 

X It was so in Massilia and in Cnidus. Aristot. Polit. v. 6. 

§ As Agesilaus and Pisander in Sparta. \\ Aristot. Polit. iv. 15. 



180 CHAPTER NINTH. 

liad its advantages, and also its evils. It is the 
strongest pillar of the rule of the people ; which is hy 
nothing so much confirmed, as by the frequent exer- 
cise of the right of election. This was the point of 
view taken by the politicians of Greece, when they 
considered the authority of the people to reside in the 
elections.*' That these frequent elections did not 
tend to preserve internal tranquillity, is easy to be 
perceived. But on the other side, the philosopher 
of Stagira has not failed to remark, that the perma^ 
nent possession of magistracies might have led to 
discontent.! 

An enumeration of the different magistracies usual 
among the Greeks, is not required by our purpose; 
neither would it be possible, as our acquaintance w^th 
the several constitutions of the cities is incredibly 
limited. The little that we know of the regulations in 
the individual states, especially in Athtns, proves 
that the number of such offices was very considerable ; 
and the same appears from the classification, which 
Aristotle has attempted to make of them.f Their 
duties are commonly indicated by their names ; but 
these again were entirely different in the various cit- 
ies ; even incases where the duties were the same. 
The Cosmi were in Crete, what the Ephori were in 
Sparta. Most of the cities must have had a magis- 
trate like the Archons in Athens ; and yet it would 
not be easy to find the name in any other. The nu- 
merous encroachments, made by the lawgivers on 
domestic life, contributed much to multiply the offices 
of magistrates and extend their sphere of action. The 

♦ Thucyd. viii. 89. f Aristot. Polit. ii. 5. 

t See the instructive passage, Poiit. iv. 16. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 181 

Grecians had formed no idea of a police, as a general 
branch of the administration of the state ; Unt they 
were acquainted with several of its branches ; and 
although they had no general board of police, the 
circumstances just mentioned led them to establish 
several particular branches ; and even some, 
which are not usual in our times. The superinten- 
dence of women, the superintendence of children, 
was in many cities entrusted to particular magis- 
trates ;* and as the Areopagus of Athens had in 
general the care of morals, there were undoubtedly 
similar tribunals in other Grecian cities. 

Thus then it appears, that amidst an almost 
infinite variety of forms, assemblies of the citizens, 
senates, and magistracies, are the institutions which 
belonged to every Grecian commonwealth. The 
preservation of freedom and equality among the com- 
mons,! formed their chief object. It was not consid- 
ered unjust to take from any one, of whom it was only 
feared that he might become dangerous to this free- 
dom, the power of doing injury, by a temporary ban- 
ishment from the city ; and this took place at Athens 
and ArgosJ by ostracism, and by petalism in Syra- 
cuse. Nothing can be more jealous, than the love 
of liberty ; and unfortunately for mankind, experi- 
ence shows but too clearly, that it has reason to 
be so. 

Nevertheless, neither these, nor other precau- 
tions were able to save the Grecian cities from the 
usurpations of tyrants, as they were termed. Few 
cities, in the mother country, and in the colonies, 

* The yv^/aiKovoftoi and the vai^ovoftoi^ Aristot. 1. c. 
•j-The oti/Tovofiia and Ifovofiiee, 

\ Aristot. Folit. v. 3. 



182 CHAPTER NINTH. 

escaped this fate. The Grecians connected with this 
word the idea of an illegitimate, but not necessarily 
of a cruel government. It was illegitimate, because 
it was not conferred by the commons ; but usurped 
without, or even against their will. A demagogue, 
however great his power may have been, was never, 
as such, denominated a tyrant ; but he received the 
name, if he set himself above the people ; that is, if 
he refused to lay before the people the account which 
was due to them.* The usual support of such an 
authority, is an armed power, composed of foreigners 
and hirelings; vvhiih w^as therefore always regarded 
as the sure mark of a tyrant.f Such a government 
by no means necessarily implied, that the existing 
regulations and laws would be entirely set aside. 
They could continue ; even an usurper needs an 
administration ; only he raises himself above the laws. 
The natural aim of these tyrants usually was, to make 
their power hereditary in their families. But though 
this happened in many cities, the supreme power 
was seldom retained for a long time by the same 
family. It continued longest, says Aristotle,J in the 
house of Orthagoras in Sicyon, for as it was very 
moder-ite and even popular, it lasted a century ; and 
for the same causes it was preserved about as long 
in the house of Cypselus in Corinth. But if it could 
not be maintained by such means, how could it have 
been kept up by mere violence and terror. Where 
the love of freedom is once so deeply fixed, as it 
was in the character of th(^ Grecians, the attempts to 
oppress it only give a new impulse to its defenders. 

* By desiring to becomr awriufiwoi. Aristoi. Polit. iv. 10. See above 
V- 161. t Aiislot. Folii. iii. 14. | Aristot. Polit. v. 12. 



CONSTITUTIONS OF THE GRECIAN STATES. 183 

And by what criterion shall the historian^ who 
investigates the history of humanity, form his judg- 
ment of the worth of these constitutions. By that, 
which a modern school, placing the object of the 
state in the security of person and of property, desires 
to see adopted. We may observe in Greece exertions 
made to gain that security : but it is equally clear, 
that it was but very imperfectly attained, and with such 
constitutions could have been but imperfectly attain- 
ed In the midst of the frequent storms, to which those 
states were exposed, that tranquillity could not long 
be preserved, in which men limit their active powers 
to the improvement of their domestic condition. It 
does not belong to us to institute inquiries into the 
correctness of those principles ; but experience does 
not admit of its being denied, that in these, to all 
appearances, so imperfect constitutions, every thing, 
which forms the glory of man, flourished in its highest 
perfection. It was those very storms, which called 
forth master spirits, by opening to them a sphere of 
action. There was no place here for indolence and 
inactivity of mind ; where each individual felt most 
sensibly, that he existed only through the state and 
with the state : where every revolution of the state 
in some measure inevitably affected him ; and the 
security of person and property was necessarily much 
less firmly established, than in well regulated mon- 
archies. We leave to every one to form his own 
judgment, and select his own criterion : but we will 
draw from the whole one general inference, that the 
forms under which the character of the human race 
can be unfolded, have not been so limited by the hand 
of the Eternal, as the wisdom of the schools would 
lead us to believe. 



184 CHAPTEU NINTH. 

But whatever may be thought of the value of 
these constitutions, the reflection is forced upon us^ 
that they surpassed all others in internal variety ; 
and therefore in no other nation could so great au 
abundance of political ideas have been awakened, 
and preserved in practical circulation. Of the hun- 
dreds of Grecian cities, perhaps there were no two, 
of which the constitutions were perfectly alike ; and 
none, of which the internal relations had not changed 
their form. How much had been tried in each one 
of them, and how often had the experiments been 
repeated ! And did not each of these experiments 
enrich the science of politics with new results? 
Where then could there have been so much political an- 
imation, so large an amount of practical knowledge, as 
among the Greeks ? If uniformity is, in the political 
world, as in the regions of taste and letters, the parent 
of narrowness, and if variety, on the contrary, pro- 
motes cultivation, no nation ever moved in better 
paths than the Greeks. Although some cities became 
preeminent, no single city engrossed every thing ; 
the splendor of Athens could as little eclipse Corinth 
and Sparta, as Miletus and Syracuse. Each city had 
a life of its own, its own manner of existence and 
action ; and it was because each one had a conscious- 
ness of its own value, that each came to possess an 
independent worth. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 185 



CHAPTER TENTH, 



THE POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 

The increasing wants of modern states have not 
only employed practical statesmen, but have led to the 
formation of many theories, of which the truth and 
utility are still subjects of discussion. Among the 
ancients, the finances of the nation were not regarded 
from so high a point of view, and therefore could not 
have been, in the same degree, an object of specula- 
tion. Whether the world has lost by this, or not, 
is a question which we prefer to leave unanswered. 
If the ancients knew less of the importance of the 
division of labour, they were also less acquainted 
with the doctrine of the modern schools, which trans- 
forms nations into productive herds. The Greeks 
were aware, that men must have productive arts, if 
they would live ; but that it is the end of life to be 
employed in them, never entered their minds. 

But the modern should not look with absolute 
contempt on the state of political science among the 
ancients. The chief question now agitated be- 
tween theorists and practical statesmen, whether the 
mere gain in money decides on the wealth of a 
nation, and should form the object of its industry, 
was correctly understood and answered by the illus- 
trious Stagirite. "Many," says he,* *^ suppose 
wealth to consist in the abundance of coined money, 

♦Aristot. Polit. i 9. 

24 



186 CHAPTER TENTH. 

because it is the object of usury and commerce. 
Money is of itself without value, and gains its utility 
only by the law ; when it ceases to be current, it loses 
its value,"^ and cannot be enijiloyed in the acquisi- 
tion of necessaries ; and therefore he who is rich in 
money, may yet be destitute of a necessary support. 
But it is ridiculous to say, that wealth consists in any 
thing, of which a man may be possessed, and yet die 
of hunger ; as the fable relates of Midas, at whose 
touch every thing became gold.^f 

In a nation, in which private existence w^as subor- 
dinate to that of the public, the industry employed in 
the increase of wealth, could not gain the exclusive 
importance, which it has with the moderns. With the 
ancients, the citizen was first anxious for the state, 
and only next for himself. As long as there is any 
higher object than the acquisition of money, the love 
of self cannot manifest itself so fully, as where every 
higher object is wanting. While religion in modern 
Europe primarily engaged the attention of states, as 
of individuals, the science of finances could not be fully 
developed, although the want of money was often 
very sensibly felt. Men learned to tread under foot 
the most glorious productions of mind, to trample 
upon the monuments of moral and intellectual great- 
ness, before they received those theories, which assign 
to the great instructers of mankind in philosophy and 

•'Or/ T£ fiiTa^ifiivuv rtHv ^^u/jtiyuv ov^mog iil^tev, xui ^^^nfftftov crpo; eufiv rit* 
uvayzaiiDv ivrL i |*rf!)Uine thai Aristotle in this expiessioii had in view the 
nuuii.uti coins, which were very common among the Greeks. The nature 
of tliese coins will he explained hereafter. 

t Aristotle ftnind in the traditions of Greece, a more suitable example, 
than that which has usually been cited respecting the man, who had abun- 
dance of gold on a desert island. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 187 

ill religion, a place in the unproductive class. In the 
states of Greece, each individual was obliged of him- 
self to say, that his own welfare was connected with 
the welfare of the state ; that his private welfare would 
be ruined by a revolution in the existing order of 
things, by the rule of the populace, or by subjection 
to a foreign power; that all his industry was of ad- 
vantage to him only while the state should continue 
to subsist. Although the patriotism, thus produced, 
proceeded frequently from selfishness, it had as a con- 
sequence, that the exertions of the individual were 
directed to something besides his private advantage, 
and that his private welfare was less regarded than 
that of the public. The times arrived, in which 
this too was chancred ; but they were the precursors 
of the ruin of liberty. 

There was still another reason, which contributed 
to make the Greeks regard the arts of industry in 
general, and some of them in particuhir, in a very diffe- 
rent light from that in which they are now considered. 
And this was slavery, which was generally prevalent, 
either under the form of domestic servitude, or, in 
some states, of villanage. 

To be convinced of this, we need only look at the 
variety of employments, which were carried on by 
slaves and villains. Such were all those household 
duties, which with us are committed to footmen ; and 
beside them, several other charges, as the superin- 
tendence, and, in part, the early education and in- 
struction of children. Vanity, still more than neces- 
sity, increased the number of those who were held 
in bondage, after it became the custom to be served 
by a numerous retinue of beautiful slaves, in the 



188 CHAPTER TENTH. 

same manner, all labours were performed, which are 
now done by journeymen and lacqueys. Some of the 
rich Grecians made a business of keeping slaves to let 
for such services. All kinds of labour in the mines 
were performed by slaves ; who, as well as the mines, 
were the property of individual citizens.* The sail- 
ors on board of the gallies, consisted, at least in part, of 
slaves. Most if not all trades were carried on by slaves ; 
who were universally employed in the manufacturing 
establishments. In these, not only the labourers, but 
also the overseers were slaves ; for the owners did 
not even trouble themselves with the care of superin- 
tending ; but they farmed the whole to persons, who 
were perhaps often the overseers also, and from whom 
they received a certain rent, according to the number 
of slaves, which they were obliged to keep undiminish- 
ed.! In those states, where there were slaves attach- 
ed to the soil, as in Laconia, Messenia, Crete, and 
Thessaly, agriculture was conducted exclusively by 
them. In the others, the masters nr.ay have bestowed 
more attention on the subject; but as the Strepsiades 
of tlie comedian shows, they did little more than 
superintend ; and the work was left to the slaves. 

If we put all this together, we shall see how lim- 
ited were the branches of industry, which remained 
for the free. But the most unavcid<ible, and at the 
same time the most important consequence of it was, 
that all those employments which were committed to 
slaves, were regarded as mean and degrading :{ and 
this view of them was not oidy confirmed by prevail- 

♦ Xcnoplj. de Rcilit. speaks of this point at large. 
i See Petit, de Leg. Att. ii. 6. 

t Bayxvffat, nrtea illihcrales. We have no word which exactly expresses 
this idea, because we have not the thing itself. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 189 

ing prejudices, but expressly sanctioned by the laws. 
To this class belonged especially the mechanics, and 
even the retailers. For although all mechanic em- 
ployments were by no means conducted by slaves, a 
shade was thrown on them all. " In well regulated 
states," says Aristotle,* " the lower order of mechan- 
ics are not even admitted to the rights of citizens ;'' 
and now we cease to wonder at the proposition of 
another statesman,! vvho vrould commit all mechanic 
labours to public slaves. This was not merely a 
theory ; it was once actually put in practice at Epi- 
damnus.J In the cities which were democratically 
governed, the condition of the mechanics was some- 
what more favourable. They could become citizens 
and magistrates, as at Athens during the rule of the 
people.^ The inferior branches of trade were not 
looked upon with much more favour. In Thebes, 
there was a law, that no one, who within ten years 
had been engaged in retail dealings, could be elected 
to a magistracy.il 

As the Grecian cities were very different in char- 
acter, the ideas which prevailed on this subject, 
could not be the same. In those states where agri- 
culture was the chief employment, the other means 
of gaining a livelihood may have been despised. In 
maritime and commercial towns, of which the number 
was very considerable, the business of commerce must 
have, been esteemed. But those who were employed 
in manufacturing and selling goods, were never able 
to gain that degree of respectability, which they 

* Aristot. Polit. iii. 5. 'H Ss /3sXt<Vt)j t'oXis ov TotrKru (ioivxutro* ToXirttv. 

t Phaneas of Chalcedon. Anstot. Polit. ii. 7. 

t Aristot. Polit. 1. c. § Aristot. Polit. iii. 4. |l Aristot. 1. c. 



\ 



190 CHAPTER TENTH. 

enjoy among modern nations.* Even in Athens, 
says Xenoplion,t much would be gained by treating 
more respectfully and more hospitably the foreign 
merchants, brought by their business to that city. 
The income derived from landed estate, "/as most 
esteemed by the Greeks. " The best nation/' says 
Aristotle,! ^^ is a nation of farmers." 

From the little esteem in which the other means 
of gaining a livelihood were held, it followed that a 
wealthy middling class could not be formed in the 
Grecian states ; and this is censured by those who 
have criticised their constitutions, as the chief cause 
of their unsettled condition. But this censure rests, 
for the most part, on an erroneous representation. It 
was degrading for a Grecian to carry on any of those 
kinds of employment with his own hands ; but it by 
no means lessened his consideration to have them 
conducted on his account. Work-shops and manu- 
factures, as well as mines and lands, could be possess- 
ed by the first men in the country. The father of 
Demosthenes, a rii-h and respectable man, left at his 
death a manufactory of swords ; which was kept up 
by his son :v and examples could be easily multiplied, 
from the orators and the comedian. When this cir- 
cumstance is kept in view, the blame attached to the 
Grecian constitutions is, in a great measure, though 
not entirely removed. The impediments which public 
opinion put in the way of industry, did not so much 
injure those concerned in any large enterprise, as 

♦Compnre on this siibjecl, first of all, Aristot. Polit. 1. 11, where he ana- 
Jyzes onii treats of the several branches of industry. 

t Xen. dc Redit. Op. p. 922. Leunclav. X Aristot. Polit. vi. 4. 

^ Deniobth. adv. Aphob. Op. ii. p. 816. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GUEEKS. 191 

those engaged in the smaller occupations. The latter 
did really feel the evil, and we are not disposed to 
represent it as inconsiderable. 

But we must return once more to the remark 
which explains the true cause of this regulation ; that 
in the Grecian states, public life was placed above 
private life. " All agree/' says Aristotle,* " that in 
every well regulated state, sufficient leisure must be 
preserved from the wants of life for the public busi- 
ness; but a difference of opinion exists as to the man- 
ner in which this can be done. It is effected by 
means of slaves ; who are not;, however, treated in all 
places alike.^' Here we have the point of view, from 
which the politician should consider slavery in Greece. 
It served to raise the class of citizens to a sort of 
nobility, especially where they consisted almost en- 
tirely of landed proprietors. It is true, that this class 
lived by the labours of the other; and every thing, 
which in modern times has been said respecting and 
against slavery, may therefore so far be applied to 
the Grecians. But their fame does not rest on the 
circumstance of their obtaining that leisure at the 
expense of the lower order ; but in the application, 
which the noblest of them made of that leisure. No 
one will deny, that without their slaves, the character 
of the culture of the upper class in Greece could in no 
respects have become what it did ; and if the fruits 
whirhwere borne^ possess a value for every cultivated 
mind, we may at least be permitted to doubt, whether 
they were too dearly purchased by the intraductioa 
of slavery. t 

♦ Aristotle ii. 9. 

t This may be the more safely asserted, because it is hardly pos-^ible to 
s'ay any thing in general on the condition of slaves in Greece ; so diflerent 



192 CHAPTER TENTH. 

The free exertions of industry were in some meas- 
ure limited by the regulations of which we have 
spoken ; but in a very different manner from any usual 
in our times. They were the result of public opinion ; 
and if they were confirmed by the laws, this was done 
in conformity to that opinion. In other respects, the 
interference of government in the matter was incon- 
siderable. It was not considered as an object, to 
preserve the mass of species undiminished, or to 
increase it; nothing was known of the balance of 
trade; and consequently all the violent measures 
resulting from it, were never devised by the Greeks. 
They had duties, as well as the moderns ; but those 
duties were exacted only for the sake of increasing 
the public revenue, not to direct the eiforts of domestic 
industry, by the prohibition of certain wares. There 
was no prohibition of the exportation of the raw 
produce ; no encouragement of manufactures at the 
expense of the agriculturalists. In this respect, 
therefore, there existed freedom of occupations, com- 
merce, and trade. And such was the general custom. 
As every thing was decided by circumstances and not 
by theories, there may have been single exceptions, 
and perhaps single examples,* where the state for 
a season usurped a monopoly. But how far was 
this from the mercantile and restrictive system of the 
moderns ! 

The reciprocal influence between national econo- 
my, and that of the state, is so great and so natural, 

was it nt different times ; in ditt'ereiit countries ; and even in the same coun- 
liy. On this subject I would refer to the following instructive work; Ges- 
chichte und Zustand der Sclaverey und Leibeigenschaft in Griecbenland, 
von .1. V. Reitemeyer. Berlin, 17S9. History and Condition of Slavery and 
Villariage in tirecce, by J. F. Reitemeyer. 
♦Arislot. de Re Famil. I. il. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 193 

that it was necessary to premise a few observations 
respecting the former. Before we treat of the latter, 
it will be useful to say a few words on a subject, 
which is equally important to both ; the money of the 
Greeks. 

National economy can exist without money, but 
finances cannot. It would be important to fix the 
time, when coined money first became current in 
Greece, and when money was first coined in the 
country itself. But it is difficult to give an exact 
answer to either of these questions, especially to the 
first. Homer never speaks of money ; and his silence 
is in this case valid as evidence ; for in more than 
one passage where he speaks of a barter,* he must 
necessarily have mentioned it, if he had been acquaint- 
ed with it. On the other hand, we may confidently 
affirm on the authority of Demosthenes, that in the 
age of Solon,t coined silver money was not only known 
in the cities of Greece, but had been in circulation 
for a length of time ;t for the punishment of death 
had already been set upon the crime of counterfeiting 
it, Solon mentioned it as in general use throughout 

* As for example, U. vi. 472. Od. i. 430. 

t About 600 years before the Christian era. 

^ " I will relate to you," says the orator, while opposing a bill brought 
in by Timocrates, " what Solon once said against a man who proposed a 
bad law. The cities, said he to the judges, have a law, that he who coun- 
terfeits money, shall be put to death. He thought this law was made for 
the protection of private persons, and their private intercourse ; but the 
laws he esteemed the coin of the state. They, therefore, who corrupt the 
laws, must be much more heavily punished, than they who adulterate the 
coinage or introduce false money. Yea, many cities exist and flourish, al- 
though they use brass and lead instead of silver money ; but those which 
have bad laws, will certainly be ruined." Demosth. in Timocrat. Op. i. p. 
763, 764. Compare with this what Herod, iii. 56, says of the counterfeit 
money, with which Polycrates is said to have cheated the Spartans. 

25 



194 CHAPTEU TENTH. 

the Grecian cities ; and many of them had already 
supplied its place with the baser metals. The Gre- 
cian coinsj which are still extant, can afford us no 
accurate dates, as the time of their coinage is not 
marked upon them ; but several of them are certainly 
as ancient as the age of Solon ; and perhaps are even 
older. The coins of Sybaris, for example, must be 
at least of tlie sixth century before the christian era; 
as that city was totally destroyed in the year510 B. C. 
The most ancient coins of Rhegiuni, Croton, and 
Syracuse, seem from the letters in the superscriptions 
to be of far higher antiquity.* If the account that 
Lycurgus prohibited in Sparta, the use of money of 
the precious metals, is well supported,! we should be 
able to trace the history of Grecian coins to a still 
more remote age ; and this opinion is corroborated at 
least by the narration of the Parian chronicle,^ that 
Phidon of Argos in the year 631 (i. e. 895 years B. C.) 
first began to coin silver in the island of ^Egina. 

But although we cannot at present trace the his- 
tory of coined money in Greece any farther,^ we may 
from the preceding observations infer one general 
conclusion ; the founding of colonies and the inter- 
course kept up with them, caused coined money to be in- 
troduced and extensively used in Greece. Before their 

♦Ekliel. Doctrina Numorum Veterum, i. p. 170 — 177. 242. 

t Plutarch, in Lycurg. Op. i. p. 177. His code is computed to have been 
given about 880 years B. C. 

\ Marmor rarium. Ep. xxxi. of. Strabo viii. p. 247. This was about 15 
years before the legislation of Lycurgus. It might, therefore, not without 
probability be supposed, that Lycurgus wished and was able to prohibit mon- 
ey of the precious metals, because it at that lime was just beginning to circu- 
late in Greece. 

§ Compare Wachteri Archa?ologia Kummaria, Lips. 1740} and the intro- 
ductory inquiries in Ekhel. D. N. V. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 195 

foundation, the Greeks knew nothing of coined money. 
When money was first coined in iEgina, the colonies 
of Asia Minor and of Magna Greecia* were already 
established and flourishing ; and we are expressly 
informed, that money was coined in that island, in 
order to carry on commerce bejond the sea.f It can- 
not be proved with certainty, that money was coined 
in the Asiatic colonies sooner than in the mother 
country. But when we call to mind the well known 
relation of Herodotus,f that the Lydians were the 
inventors of money coined of gold and silver (a thing 
in itself not improbable, as it is known that Lydia 
abounded in gold,^ and that the most flourishing 
Grecian colonies were situated on the Lydian coasts) 
we cannot but find it highly probable, that the Greeks 
received their stamps for coining, like so many other 
inventions, from Asia ; and here too, the remark is 
valid, that in their hands every thing received a new 
form and a new beauty. For no nation has ever yet 
had coins, of which the stamp equalled in beauty 
those of the Grecian, and especially of the Sicilian 
cities. 

The right of minting gold was regarded in Greece 
as the privilege of the state, which superintended it. 
Hence arose that variety and multitude of city coins, 
which are easily distinguished by their peculiar stamp. 
Coins were also struck by several of the tribes, the 
Thessalians, the Boeotians, and others, as they form- 
ed by their alliances one political body. 

*As e. g. Cumae. 

+ Slrabo viii. p. 259. He refers to Ephorus. t Herod, i. 94. 

§ Nor is there any other nation, which disputes this honour with the Ly- 
dians. For the Egyptians e. g. are named without any reason. See Wach- 
ter, 1. c. cap. iv. 



196 CHAPTER TENTH. 

Though the Grecian coins were of both precious and 
base metals, they were originally struck of precious 
metal only, and probably at first of nothing but silver. 
So few of the gold coins have been preserved, that we 
cannot certainly say, whether they are altogether as 
ancient ; but those of base metal are certainly of a 
later period. That even before the time of Solon, 
silver money had in many cities a large proportion of 
alloy, appears from the passage which we cited 
from Demosthenes.* In Hellas itself, we know of no 
silver mines except those of Laurium. which were very 
ancient ;t but the gold mines of Thrace and the 
neighbouring island Thasos were quite as ancient, for 
they were wrought by the Phoenicians. Yet the 
Greeks received most of their gold from Lydia. And 
still there was not species enough in circulation, es- 
pecially in the commercial towns : and although the 
Greeks knew nothing of paper money, several cities 
made use of the same resource, which had been intro- 
duced at Carthage.t the use of nominal coins, which 
possessed a current value, not cori^esponding to their 
intrinsic one.; Such was the iron money (if my view 
is a just one) which was adopted in Byzantium, 
Clazomene.j and perhaps in some other cities.^ 

* Yet the ancient gold ccia< which vre still possess, have alnost bo allor. 
aod the iilver ones very little. 

t So old, that it was impossible to fix their a»e. Xenoph. de Redit. Op. p 
924. 

tBeoen's Ideen u. 3. 164. § Tollux ii. 7S. 

I Aristot. CLcoa. ii. Op. ii. p. 3S3. A decisive passace. 

1 Most of the cities, says Xenophon. Op. p. &22. have laoaey, wfcjdi is BOi 
corrent eicept in their owo territory; hence merchants are obi^ed 1o 
barter their own wares for other wares. Athens makes a solitary excep- 
tion. It was therefore qaite cobiiikhi for cities to have two kiads of voaej 
coins of Romiaal ralue, current oaly in the city vthich strsck tibeaa ; asd 
metallic oMNiej, of whick the valae depended on its intrinsic worth, and 
which cirealated ia otker pUtres Hence Plato de Le^^- v. p. 7-IS, permits this 
in kis state 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GUEEKS. 197 

It is certain, therefore, that the Greeks had money 
which was current only in the state, and out of it was 
of no vahie ; as we learn also from a passage in Pla- 
to.^ It is much to be regretted, that we do not know 
by what means its value was kept from falling. 

The inquiry into the economy of a nation, intricate 
as it may be, can be reduced to the following points ; 
Wh?it were the wants of the state ? What means were 
adopted to supply them? How were those means 
brought together ? How administered ? The inquiry 
respecting the economy of the Grecian states will be 
conducted with reference to these questions. 

The small republics of that people appear at the 
first view, according to the modern criterion, to have 
hardly had any wants, which could make a financial 
system necessary ; and in fact there were some states, 
as Sparta during a long period, without any finances. 
The magistrates were rewarded with honour, not with 
a salary. The soldiers were citizens and not hire- 
lings ; and many of those public institutions, which 
are now supported by the governments for the most 
various purposes, and in part at very great expense, 
were then entirely unknown, because they were not 
felt to be necessary. 

Nevertheless we find the contrary to have been 
true. The burdens which the citizens of those re- 
publics had to support, continued gradually to in- 
crease ; and in the later period of Grecian liberty, 
became so great, that we cannot but esteem them op- 
pressive. States can create wants, no less than indi- 

♦ Plato 1. c. The current silver money consisted in drachmas, and pie- 
ces of money were struck of as much as four drachmas. Ekhel i. p. Ixizv. 
thinks it probable, that the other cities followed the Attic standard. 



198 CHAPTEll TENTH. 

vidiials. Even in Greece, experience shows that 
necessities are multiplied with the increase of power 
and splendor. But when we call them oppressive, we 
must not forget, that the heaviness of the contributions 
paid to the state, is not to be estimated by their 
absolute amount ; nor yet by the proportion alone, 
which that amount bears to the income. In our 
present investigations, it is more important to bear 
in mind, what our modern economists have entirely 
overlooked, that in republican states (or at least more 
especially in them) there exists beside the criterion 
of money, a moral criterion, by which a judgment on 
the greater or less degree of oppression is to be form- 
ed. Where the citizen exists only with and for the 
state ; where the preservation of the commonwealth 
is every thing to the individual ; many a tax is easily 
paid, which under other circumstances would have been 
highly oppressive. But in the theories of our mod- 
ern political artists, there is no chapter, which treats 
of the important influence of patriotism and public 
spirit on the financial system ; probably because the 
statistical tables do not make mention of them as 
sources of produce. 

The wants of states are partly established by their 
nature ; but still more by opinion. That is a real 
w^ant, which is believed to be such. The explanation 
of the management of the affairs of any nation would 
necessarily be very imperfect, if we should pay no 
regard to the ideas, which it entertained respecting its 
necessities. On this point the Greeks had very diffe- 
rent notions from ours. Many things seemed essen- 
tial to them, which do not appear so to us ; many 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 199 

things are needed by us, of which they did not feel 
the necessity. 

The first object with the Greek was the honour and 
splendor of his city. In that world of small republics, 
each wished to make itself remarkable ; each to be 
distinguished for something. Now there were two 
things, which in the eyes of the Greeks, rendered a 
city illustrious ; its public monuments and its festivals. 
These objects were therefore politically necessary, 
in a different sense from that in which they can be 
called so in modern states. Among these the first 
place belongs to the temples. No Grecian city was 
without gods, of whom it honoured some as its guar- 
dian deities. How could these gods be left without 
dwelling-places ? The art of sculpture was very nat- 
urally exerted in connexion with that of architecture ; 
for the statues of the gods did not merely adorn the 
temples, but were indispensably necessary as objects 
of adoration. The same may be said of the festivals. 
Life without holidays would have ceased to be life to 
a Greek. But these holidays were not passed exclu- 
sively in prayers, or at banquets. Processions, music, 
and public shows, were an essential part of them. 
These were not merely the diversions of the people 
during the festival, they constituted the festival 
itself. 

All this was intimately connected with religion. 
The Greeks had almost no public festivals except 
religious ones. They were celebrated in honour of 
some God, some hero ; above all in honour of the pa- 
tron deities of the place.* By this means, many things 

♦ Meursii Graccia Feriata, in Gronov. Thes. Ant. Gra;c. vol. vii. is one of 
the richest compilations on the subject of the Grecian festivals. 



200 CHAPTEU TENTH. 

which we are accustomed to regard as objects of 
amusement, received a much more elevated character. 
They became duties enjoined by religion ; which 
could not be neglected without injury to the honour 
and reputation, and even to the welfare of the city. 
The gods would have been incensed ; and the acci- 
dental evils, which might have fallen on the city, 
would infallibly have been regarded as punishments 
inflicted by the gods. We need not therefore be 
astonished, when we hear that a city could be very 
seriously embarrassed for want of sufficient means to 
celebrate its festivals with due solemnity.* 

Thus a field, an almost immeasurable field was 
opened for public expenses of a kind, hardly known 
to modern states. Even in cases where the govern- 
ments believe it necessary to expend something on 
public festivals, little is done except in the capital ; 
and this expenditure has never, to our knowledge, 
made an article in a budget. It would have made 
the very first in Grecian cities, at least in times of 
peace. And he who can vividly represent those states 
to his mind, will easily perceive how many things must 
have combined to increase these expenditures. They 
were prompted not by a mere regard for the honour 
of the state ; jealousy and envy of the other cities 
were of influence also. And still more is to be at- 
tributed to the emulation and the vanity of those, who 
were appointed to the charge of the expenditures. 
One desired to surpass another. This was the most 
reputable manner of displaying wealth. And although, 
as fcir as we know, public shows were not, in the Gre- 
cian cities, so indispensably the means of gaining the 

" Consult what Aristotle relates of Antissaus, Op. ii. p. 390. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 201 

favour of the people as at Rome, (probably because 
what in Rome was originally voluntary, had ever been 
considered in Greece as one of the duties and burdens 
of a citizen, which did not merit even thanks,) polit- 
cal ends may have often been of influence with indi- 
viduals. 

The Grecian temples had, for the most part, pos- 
sessions of their own, with which they met the expen- 
ses incurred in the service of the god. Their pos- 
sessions consisted partly in votive presents, which had 
been consecrated, especially where the divinities of 
health and prophecy were adored, by the hopes or 
the gratitude of the suppliants for aid and counsel. 
We know from several examples, especially from that 
of the Delphic temple, that treasures were there ac- 
cumulated, of more value probably than those of 
Loretto, or any other shrine in Europe.* But as 
they were sacred to the gods, and did not come into 
circulation, tliey were, for the most part, but unpro- 
ductive treasures, possessing no other value than what 
they received from the artist. We could desire more 
accurate information respecting the administration of 
the treasures of the temples ; for it seems hardly 
credible, that the great stores of gold and silver, 
which were not wrought, should have been left entire- 
ly unemployed. But besides these treasures, the 
temples drew a large part of their revenue from 
lands ;t which were not unfrequently consecrated to 

♦The consequences with which tiie profanation of the Delphic treasures 
in the Sacred war, was fraught for Greece, may be learned from Athen. vi. 
p. 231, etc. 

t Not only single fields, but whole districts were consecrated to the gods. 
Beside the fields of Cirrha, it was desired to consecrate the whole of Phocis 
to Apollo of Delphi. Diod. xvi. p. 245. Brasidas devoted to Pallas the ter- 

26 



202 CHAPTER TENTH. 

their service. When a new colonial city was built, it 
was usual to devote at once a part of its territory to 
the Gods.* But although these resources were suffi- 
cient for the support of the temple, the priests, the 
various persons employed in the service of the tem- 
ples, and perhaps the daily sacrifices, yet the incense 
and other expenses, the celebration of the festivals 
with all the costs connected with it, still continued a 
burden to be borne by the public. 

Beside the expenses which were required by 
religion and the honour of the city, there were others 
which the administration made necessary. The 
magistrates, in the proper sense of the word, were 
without salaries ; but the state needed many inferior 
servants for the taxes, the police, etc. ; and these 
must certainly have been paid.f Add to this that 
several of the duties of citizens were of such a nature 
that it subsequently became necessary to pay for the 
performance of them, though it had not been done at 
an earlier period. To this class belongs the duty of 
attending in the courts ; and the investigation of the 

ritory of Lecytlius, which he had conquered. Thucyd. iv. cap. 116. It is a 
mistake to believe that the consecrated land must have remained uncultivat- 
ed. That of Cirrha remained so, because a curse rested on it. Pansan. p. 
894, In other cases it was used sometimes for pasture land, especially for 
the sacred herds ; Thucyd. v. 53 ; sometimes it was tilled ; Thucyd. iii. 68 ; 
but for tlie most part let for a rent. Whoever did not pay the rent, 
fnir&uffiti Tciv Ti/jtivAiv^ was considered destitute of honour. Demosth. in Ma- 
CHiL Op. ii. p 1069. In another passage, the orator complains of the num- 
ber of enemies he had made by collecting these rents \. hen he was Demarch. 
Or. in Kubulid.Op. ii. p. 1318. Two contracts for similar rents have been 
pre.served. Mazochi Tabb. Heracleens, p. 145 etc. and 257 etc. 

* Plato de Legg. iv. p 717. 

t But though the magistrates were not paid, there were certain offices 
(especially such as were connected with the care of any funds), which could 
be made very productive to those w ho held them. An example of this kind 
is found in Deuiosth. in Mid. Op. i. p. 570. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 203 

Attic State will prove to us, that the number of those 
who were to be paid, caused this expense to be one of 
the heaviest. 

But as the states increased in power, the greatest 
expenditures were occasioned by the military and 
naval establishments. These expenditures were, for 
the most part, extraordinary ; since the state in times 
of peace had no standing army, and no mariners to 
pay. But even in times of peace, large appropria- 
tions were needed for the support of the magazines 
and the ships ; and unfortunately fur Qreece, the 
common condition of the more powerful states came 
at last to be that of war rather than of peace. If wars 
under any circumstances are costly, two causes con- 
tributed to make them especially so in Greece. The 
first was the custom which arose of employing hired 
troops. As long as wars were carried on by the 
militia of the country, which required no pay, the 
costs of them were not very considerable, as each one 
served at his own expense. B ut when hired troops 
began to be used, every thing was changed. We 
shall take another opportunity of showing how this 
custom, by which the whole political condition of 
Greece was most deeply and incurably disordered, 
continued to gain ground from the first moment of its 
introduction. Hence proceeded the pecuniary em- 
barrassment of so many Grecian cities dui^ing the 
Peloponnesian war. The second leading cause is to 
be found in the progress of naval forces, and their in- 
creasing importance to the ruling states. The build- 
ing, support, and fitting out of squadrons, which 
are always so expensive, must have been doubly so to 
the Greeks, who were obliged to import their tim- 



204 CHAPTER TENTH. 

ber and many other articles from a distance. The 
expense became still greater^ when the cities began to 
outbid each other in the pay of their mariners ; which 
tljey did, as soon as the Spartans were enabled by 
the Persian supplies to cope in this matter with their 
rivals.^ Need we be astonished, then, at finding 
under such circumstances, that the trierarchies, or 
contributions of the rich towards the fitting out of the 
gailies, were the most oppressive of all the public 
burdens?! 

DilFer^nt, therefore, as was the list of public 
expenses from that of modern states, we still find 
points of agreement. We have now to inquire, What 
were the sources of the public revenue ? What in 
particular was the system of taxation? 

There is but one state in Greece, that of Athens, 
respecting which, any accurate information on this 
subject has been preserved. It would be too hasty 
an inference to say, that what was usual in that city 
was usual in the others. But though the particular 
regulations may have been very different, a great 
general similarity must certainly have prevailed ; and 
it is that, which we are now to consider. Such a 
resemblance was a natural consequence of the great 
preponderating power and political influence of Ath- 
ens. In the states which were its allies, how much 
must necessarily have been regulated by its example ! 

♦This is known to have been done during the Peloponnesian war as well 
)>y the Curinlhi-.iiis, Thucyd. i. 31, as by Sparta, which state received of the 
Persians more than 5000 talents (nearly five million dollars) for that pur- 
pose. Isocrat. de Pace, Op. p. 179. 

t We do not find it mentioned, that the trierarchies, which were common 
in Athens, were usual in the other maritime cities; but the rich doubtless 
bofe the burden of fitting out the ships. See, respecting Corinth, Thucyd. I.e. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 205 

And the little information which we are able to col- 
lect respecting their revenues^ appears to prove the 
fact beyond a doubt. 

It is to Aristotle once more, that we owe a general 
view of this subject.* After classifying the sources 
of revenue in monarchies, with respect to the general 
no less than the provincial administration, f he con- 
tinues ; ^^The third kind of administration, is that of 
free states. For them, the principal source of rev- 
enue is from the produce of their own soil ; the 
second from merchandise and the markets ; the third 
from the contributions paid by the citizens in turn. ''J 
When we learn, that these last were a sort of property 
tax for the richer class, and that the second could 
have been nothing but duties on articles of consump- 
tion, we perceive at once, what we are soon to prove, 
that in the Grecian states, our direct and indirect 
taxes were known and introduced, though in techni- 
cal language the distinction was differently made. 
The subject deserves to be treated with closer at- 
tention. 

In the political economy of the moderns, the taxes 
on lands and houses are considered the most impor- 
tant of all direct taxes. How far had the Greeks 

♦ Aristot. de Re Familiari, ii. 1. Is there no one of our scholars who will 
take notice of this entirely neglected, but highly instructive treatise of the 
Stagirite ? 

f'H (hafftXixn and h actr^x-xiKn. When the Greeks spoke of an empire, they 
always had in mind the empire of Persia. 

\ T^iTov ^E, rnv ^oXirtKinv. Taurns 5e K^acr'nrryt fiXv T^oirohoiy it axo ruv t^iuv ly 

It is known from the orators, that these last are the burdens borne in turn by 
the rich, Xurov^ytai. Demosth. in Leptin. Op. i. p. 463. If the words 5/ kyuvut 
fire correct, tl)e public games and assemblies are intended, with which fairs 
were commonly connected ; otherwise it would be natural to conjecture 
kyo^m instead of u.yu'tm. The sense remains the same. 



206 CHAPTER TENTH. 

the one and the other? They certainly were ac- 
quainted with both. " In Menda/' says Aristotle, 
" the common expenses of the administration are paid 
from the revenue derived from the harbours and 
duties ; the taxes, on the contrary, on land and houses 
are regularly assessed ; but they are collected from 
those who are bound to pay them, only in times of 
a great want of money."* This example shows very 
clearly, that the Greeks knew the practical differ- 
ence between direct and indirect taxes ; but it still 
remains doubtful, whether the tax on the soil was a 
Icind tax in the modern sense, according to its square 
contents and quality ; or whether it was a tax on the 
raw ])roduce. The first is not probable. We hear 
notlung of a register of landed estates in Greece; 
though there existed such an one in the great empire 
of Persia.f Where the taxes are treated of, the ex- 
pressions appear rather to indicate, that a proportion 
of the produce was paid. It was commonly tithes, 
which were taken of fruits and of cattle ; as Aristotle 
expressly mentions in the passages first cited. J In 
what degree these taxes were usual in the Grecian 
cities, is no where expressly related ; nor do we 
know whether they were levied on certain estates, or 
on all lands. That they were very common, is hardly 
doubtful, since the remark of Aristotle is a general 
one. 

Poll taxes were less frequently levied on the 
citizens (though we would not assert, that they did 
not in any degree exist with respect to them), than on 

♦ Arisl.u. de Re Famil. Op. ii. 393. Menda was a Grecian city on the 
coast of Macedonia, not far from Potidaa, t Heeren's Ideeo, B. ii. S. 573. 
X Compare De Re Famil. ii. 1. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 207 

the inquilini or resident foreigners. These formed 
in most of the Grecian cities a numerous class of 
inhabitants, and were obliged to pay for protection, a 
sum* which was sometimes a poll tax, and sometimes 
an impost on property. We know with certainty, 
that such sums were paid by the foreigners at 
Athens. 

However much the practical politician may be 
excited by increasing wants, to exert his inventive 
powers, the character of the state settles in a certain 
measure the kinds of taxes. Where a community imposes 
its own taxes, the direct taxes, and among them those on 
property, will have the first rank. That each citizen, 
or rather, that the richer citizens (for the rule does 
not of course apply to the poorer classes) should 
share in the public burdens in proportion to their 
means, is so naturul an idea, that it cannot but occur 
of itself. But when we consider the taxes on proper- 
ty as forming the chief division, we must premise two 
observations in connexion with that remark. 

First : The taxes on property were not so regular, 
that they were paid from year to year according to 
the same fixed measure. The necessary sums were 
rather voted, as circumstances required ; which also 
decided the degree of rigour, with which they 
were collected. Of this we have proof in very many 
examples in Demosthenes and others.f In times of 
peace, whole years might pass away, in which no such 
taxes were required to be paid ; while in others they 

*To /jctroixiov. The regulations respecting this, and its amount, may be 
found iti Harpocration, h. v. 

\ They were called in Athens the iltripo^a,). No one will doubt, that they 
were introduced into other cities, though under different names. 



208 CHAPTER TENTH. 

increased so mucli^ that Isocrates could say, it was 
almost better to be a poor man than a rich one: 
because the poor were not exposed to them.* 

Secondly : There were certain kinds of expenses, 
which were not estimated at a fixed amount, but were 
too considerable to be borne by any but the opulent ; 
we mean those offices "/hich each citizen was obliged 
to perform in his turn, and at his own expense, 
(XeiToveyiui)'^ To this class belonged partly the 
charge of the public festivals and shows, banquets 
and bands of music connected with them ; and partly, 
at least in Athens, and probably in other maritime 
towns, the fitting out of the gallies. The first class 
of these expenses, was by its nature a permanent one; 
and the other was almost, though not perfectly so. 
They were borne by the citizens in rotation ; and 
those who were free one year, were obliged to defray 
them the next. But they, especially the first, were 
the more oppressive, as they were not fixed at any 
certain amount ; but depended not merely on the 
wants of the state, but the pride of him who supplied 
them. 

Taxes on property are attended with one great 
difliculty, that they cannot be apportioned out without 
a knowledge of the fortunes of each contributor. But 
they depend also more than any other on correctness 
of moral sentiment and on public spirit. Where 
these exist, (and they can no where more prevail, 
than in such civil communities as the Grecian states,) 
there is no need of returns on the part of those who 

*Isocrut. de Pace. Op. p. 185. 

tin the broadest sense ; in so far as tlie word cotni>rehcnds not only the 
fittlngout of the ships (r^ir.^a^x't'^i) , hut also tlie charge of the cliorus (,\;«f>j- 
ji'ow), and the gytuna;?tic j^mncs (^yvftvutna^x''^'')' 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 209 

are to be taxed, nor of an\ inquisition on the part of 
the state. Confidence is reposed in the conscience of 
the contributor ; and examples may be found in 
history, of states in which even a suspicion of any 
insincerity was almost unheard of.* In the Greciaa 
cities, at least in Athens, very severe measures were 
in the later periods made use of against those, who 
were suspected of concealing the true state of their 
fortunes, or whom it was desired to vex in that man- 
ner. They could be compelled to exchange their 
property for the sum at which they had estimated 
it.f But in better times, such measures, though 
perhaps permitted, seem never to have been usual. 
A division was made into classes according to the 
income ; such as had been established in Athens, by 
the regulations of Solon. These classes presupposed 
an estimate of property :i but whether this was made 
in the Grecian cities as accurately as the census of 
the Romans, is a question which we must leave un- 
decided. ^> 

The indirect taxes, by which we mean the duties 
paid on the importation and exportation of articles, 

♦ As in several of the late German imperial to\m?. The author is acquainted 
with one, in which the contributions were thrown into a bos, unexamined ; 
and yet the amount of the whole was previously known, with almost peifect 
exactness. 

t Th« itrtliffn;. See, on this subject, the speech of Isocrates,Op. p. 312, etc. 

1 r'tfirfiM. Oemosth. in Aphob. Orat. i. Op. ii. p. 3, etc. 

§ In some of the cities, great accuracy seems to have prevailed in this 
business. Thus in Chios, all private debts were entered in a public book, so 
that it might be known, what capital was lent out. Arislot. Op. ii. p. 390. 
In the Athenian colony Potidaea, in a time of war, when money was wanting, 
every citizen was obliged to specify his property with exactness, and the con 
tributions {tW^a^eu) >vere apportioned out accordingly. He who possessed no 
property, jtnj^Mt •w^t», paid a poll (ax ; his person being reckoned as a capital 
"ftwo mina: (about thirty dollars), he paid the tax due on such a sum. 
Vristot. 1. c. 

or 



210 CHAPTER TENTH. 

as also on their consumption, were probably as com- 
mon in the Grecian cities, as those above mentioned. 
The instance of the city Menda, which we have al- 
ready cited, shows that they were preferred, at least 
in some instances to the direct taxes. Much that 
related to them, was decided by the situation and 
chief employment of the cities. The duties were 
naturally a much more productive source of revenue 
to the maritime and commercial towns, than to the 
cities of the interior. But where these taxes were 
introduced, they were a constant source of income ; 
while the taxes on property were each time imposed 
anew. From this it naturally resulted, that they 
were chiefly destined to meet the usual expenditures. 
Our knowledge of the organization of the Grecian 
customs, is very imperfect. Yet we cannot doubt, 
that duties were almost universally common. But 
they were most probably limited to the seaports and 
harbours ; in connexion with these, they are almost 
always mentioned y^ I know of no instance of customs 
in the interior. They were, according to Aristotle, 
levied on imported and exported articles.f In 
Athens, the customs are frequently mentioned by the 
orators ; in Thessaly they formed the chief source of 
the revenue ;J and they were not of less moment in 
Macedonia.^ When the Athenians became the mas- 
ters of the iRgean sea, they appropriated to them- 
selves, in all subject islands, the collecting of the 

♦ Hence the plirase A/^iva; kuotoZ(t$ch. to collect the customs in the harbours, 
DeniosMien. i. 15. 

t Aristot. 1. C. Tx U(ra.ytityifjtK ko.) to, t^xyuyi/xa, 

t Demosth. 1. c. 

§Tlicy were fomnionly renled out in tlial country for twenty talents,: 
which sum Callistratus knew how to double. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 393. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 211 

customs, instead of the tribute which had before been 
usual.* The same was done with the very produc- 
tive customs of Byzantium, which all the commerce 
to the Black sea was obliged to discharge,! just as 
the commerce to the East sea has hitherto been oblig- 
ed to pay a tribute in the Sound. This comparison is 
the more just, as the duties of Byzantium, no less than 
those in the Sound, have been the occasion even of a 
war.f 

These examples, of which the number could easily 
be increased, are quite sufficient to prove, that duties 
were very generally exacted in the seaports. The prin- 
ciple, according to which the customs were regulated, 
had nothing in view but the increase of the public 
revenue ; and no design was connected with them, of 
gaining influence on the encouragement and direction 
of domestic industry. At least we have never been 
able to find any hint to that effect. But the tariff 
seems to have been very different in the several cities, 
and for the different articles of merchandise. At 
Byzantium, the duty was ten per cent, on the value 
of the wares. ^ The Athenians, on the contrary, when 
they imposed duties in the harbours of their allies 
during the Peloponnesian war, exacted only five per 
cent. II In Athens itself, there were, at least in the 
time of Demosthenes, several articles which paid a 
duty of but two per cent.^f To this class belonged 
all corn introduced into Athens ;** and several other 

♦ Thucyd. iv. 28. t Demostb. Op. i. p. 475. 

t Namely between Byzantium and Rhodes. § Demosth. Op. 1. p. 475, 
11 Thucyd. viii. 28. 

*f This is the TivrnKeirToXo'yos u'roy^a.(pri, the tariff ofthefifliclh penny. De- 
mosth. ill Mid. Op. i. p. 558. 

♦* Demosth. in Nea^r. Op. ii. p. 1353. 



2l!S CHAPTER TENTH. 

objects, such as fiixG woollen garments and vessels of 
silver.* 

We distinguish in our system of finances between 
duties on importation and exportation, and taxes on 
domestic consumption.! It may be asked, if this 
was also the case in Greece ? I do not doubt that it 
was ; but in the Grecian cities, as in Rome and perhaps 
in the whole of the ancient world, these taxes were im- 
posed in but one very simple form. They were con- 
nected with the markets. Whatever was there offered 
for sale, paid a duty ; and hence this duty is men- 
tioned only with reference to the markets. f And I 
find no proof, that the taxes on consumption received 
in any ancient state the same extent, which they have 
acquired in several modern countries. ^^ 

Beside the taxes already enumerated, there were 
other particular ones on various articles of luxury. 
Thus in Ephesus, a tax was paid for wearing gold 
on the clothes ; and in Lycia, for wxaring false hair.|| 
Examples are preserved by Aristotle, where, in cases 
of necessity, single cities adopted various extraordi- 
nary measures, such as the sale of the public estates,1[ 
the sale of the privilege of citizenship, taxes on sev- 



♦Demoslh. in Mid. Op. i.p. 568, enumerates several. 

t Such as the excise, licenses, etc. 

t In Aristot. ii. p. 3SS. fi i-ro rZi »ara. yrii rt ««< iyaextuv rtXZr tr»«rat»i. 
Hence the expression ; vkt aya^in xctfrtuf^att to colled the revenue from the 
markets. Demosth. Olynth. i. Op. i. p. 15. 

§ In Babylon, there existed an antiquated law which was renewed by the 
governor appointed by Alexander, and which required that a tithe should b« 
paid of every thing brought into the city. Aristot. Op. ii. p. 395. 

II Aristot. CEcon. ii. Op. ii. p. 3S5. 

^ Aristot. 1. c. p. 389. That which follows is also related by him in the 
same place. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 213 

eral professions and employments,* as of soothsayers 
and quacks, and monopolies, of which the state pos- 
sessed itself for a season. 

In all the Grecian cities, the indirect taxes, espe- 
cially the duties, were most probably farmed. The 
custom of farming the revenue prevailed in a much 
greater degree in several of the monarchical states of 
antiquity ; in the Grecian republics, it seems to have 
been restricted to the indirect taxes. It is generally 
known, that in Athens the duties were farmed ; but 
the same was the case in Byzantium, in Macedonia, 
and in other places.f Demosthenes distinguishes 
three classes of persons who were interested in this 
transaction : those who rented this branch of the 
revenue : their bondsmen ; and the inspectors and 
receivers.J It would be superfluous to speak of the 
great evils of this arrangement : but has it not been 
preserved by much larger states in modern Europe? 

One important question still remains : In the 
Grecian cities, who had the right of fixing the taxes ? 
The political science of the moderns has regarded it 
as one of the most important points, as the peculiar 
characteristic of a free constitution, that the govern- 
ment should not be permitted to impose taxes without 
the consent of the people, given directly, or by con- 
sent of its deputies. In most of the ancient republics, 
the same custom probably prevailed ; yet it is reraark- 

* A general income tax of ten per cent, on all emplovments, was laid 
by king Tachus in Egypt, at the instance of Chabrias. Aristot. I. c p. 394. 
Though executed in Egypt, the idea was that of a Greek ; and Pitt most 
resign his claim to the invention of the Income tax. 

i See the passages cited above, which prove this. 

t Demosth. Op. i. p. 745. riX^s n 9ffiifut*s, n lyyvnrifuv^f, i Uxiyn. 
Those who rented the taxes of the state, were of course obliged to procure 
ife boHdsmen. 



214 CHAPTEIl TENTH. 

able that no particular value was ever set upon this 
privilege; and much less was it ever considered 
a criterion of political liberty. The whole system of 
taxation, we have already remarked, was not viewed 
from the same elevated point which is now taken; 
nor can this principle be fully developed, except where 
the representative system is introduced. But prop- 
erly speaking, the whole subject was considered by 
the Greeks from a very different side. Their magis- 
trates were bound to acknowledge the obligation of 
laying their accounts before the people. This was 
the characteristic of freedom.* Where this right is 
preserved by the people, it is of much less importance 
by whom the taxes are imposed. 

But this question hardly admits of a general 
answer in the Grecian cities. It cannot be doubted 
that the difference of constitutions produced differen- 
ces in this matter ; but if from the want of documents 
this is only a conjecture, it is on the other hand certain, 
that the difference of the taxes must have produced 
such a variety. 

The regular and abiding taxes were fixed by 
laws ; which in part were expressly called ancient 
laws.f The sum which was allotted in Athens for the 
annual expense of the public sacrifices, was fixed by 
the laws of Solon at six talents. f For this purpose, 
no other appropriations were needed. The tariffs of 
the duties and taxes on consumption were in like 
manner established laws, which, as their very names 
indicate,^ were doubtless granted by the people ; who 

♦See above, page 175. tDemoslh. Op. i. p. 4G2. 

\fiep Lysias in Nicomacli. Or. CIi-. v. p. 856. 
^Na^ai TiXuviKo), Dcmoslli. i. p. 732. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 215 

of course had the right of making alterations in them. 
Those public charges, which were borne in turn, 
the trierarchies and the providing of the Chorus, 
were also established by ancient laws ;* although 
these offices, especially the first, were, from their 
very nature, much influenced by the circumstances of 
the times ; and hence they underwent greater and 
more frequent changes than any other imposts. That 
these regulations and their changes could not be 
made without the consent of the people, will not be 
doubted by any one, who knows that every thing 
which the Greeks called a law, vo^JLog^ could proceed 
from no other fountain. 

But what were the regulations respecting those 
extraordinary imposts, which were hardly less than 
permanent, those taxes on property, which we com- 
prehend under the name of tribute (g/V(pofa})? That 
these should have been fixed exclusively by the peo- 
ple, seems so natural in states where the highest 
authority is possessed by a popular assembly, that it 
may be thought superfluous to suggest this question. 
Yet we know that it was not so in Rome ; where the 
taxes were fixed, not by the people, but solely by the 
senate. But in Athens, as we may learn from any one 
of the political orations of Demosthenes, the taxes 
needed always to be confirmed by the people. It 
would be too hasty to infer from Athens, that the same 
was true of all the other Grecian states. But where- 
ever the financial regulations of the other states are 
mentioned (unless they were in subjection to a ty- 

♦Demosth. i. p. 462. 



21G CHAPTEll TENTH. 

rant*), it is always done in expressions which 
authorize the conclusion, that the consent of the 
people or the assembly of the citizens was neces- 
sary.! 

So much the greater variety seems to have pre- 
vailed in the administration of the public revenue, not 
only in the several states, but also at different periods 
in the same state. Those places and offices which 
were connected with that administration, were natu- 
rally the objects of the greatest competition ; and this 
alone would be sufficient to explain the changes which 
were made. But must not the difference of the con- 
stitutions have exercised its influence ? In states, of 
which certain families, distinguished for their wealth 
and descent, had made themselves the leaders, what 
could be expected, but that they should obtain the 
management of the public money ? In the prin- 
cipal cities of Greece, the most remarkable difference 
is perceptible. At Athens, the council of five hun- 
dred had the care of the public money ; in Sparta, 
this had been secured by the Ephori. A great dif- 
ference may be supposed to have prevailed in the 
other Grecian cities ; certainly with respect to the 
persons who held the offices of collectors and ac- 
countants. But we have almost no historical infor- 
mation respecting any place but Athens. 

* Where tyrants had possessed themselves of the government, they ira- 
posctd taxes at their own pleasure, as they were not ItivSuioi j tbey also 
adopted various artifices to increase their revenue, such as debasing the 
coin, k.c. of which Aristotle, (Econ. L. ii, has preserved various examples. 
But where they desired to preserve an appearance of decency, as Dionysius 
I. in Syracuse, w ho in other respects look so many liberties, this matter was 
laid by them before the IxxXturia. Aristot. 1. c. 

t In the examples which Aristot. 1. c. cites of Clazomene, Potidaea, and 
other places, his phra^-e i«^ iyPr^'^ffa^ra, or sometime? vSfio* thuro, w^hich, it is 
well known, can be understood only of the decrees of the people. 



POLITICAL ECONOMY OF THE GREEKS. 217 

" Of all forms of government, those of free cities 
are perhaps the least adapted to the developing of 
an artificial system of finances. For in them the 
wants, and the means of satisfying those wants, are 
commonly very simple. Changes are difficult; for 
they presuppose the consent of the commonalty. 
They who propose them, can hardly expect thanks ; 
but rather hatred, and even persecution. Hence 
ancient usage is preserved as much as possible ; and 
when extraordinary wants occur, recourse is had 
to extraordinary measures, concerted for the moment, 
rather than to any change in the existing institutions. 
It is diiferent in extensive monarchies, where every 
thing moves more firmly and more regularly ; and 
though their practice is not so much founded on scien- 
tific views as on certain maxims, still it is in them, 
that an artificial system of finances can be formed. 
The question. Which is best for the nations? may be 
answered by history. But when our modern theo- 
rists pretend to look with contempt on Greece, be- 
cause she knew nothing of their doctrines, they should 
at least remember, that Greece was so happy as to 
have much less need of them. Where nature has 
made the support of life sufficiently easy, where there 
are fewer wants to be satisfied, the arts of industry, 
which after all have regard only to our physical being, 
stand on a lower scale. The inhabitant of Otaheite 
can be happy without the system of Adam Smith ; 
and though the division of labour could secure greater 
gain to those islanders, they would hardly be made 
more contented, because they stand less in need of 
gain. But even in those modern countries^ where the 
28 



218 CHAPTER TENTH. 

theories of political economy have been refined with 
the utmost acuteness, — how much notice is taken of 
them by practical statesmen ? And who are in this 
case to be censured ? The theorists, or the states- 
men, — or both ? 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 219 



CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 



THE JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 



Unlike the regulations of our modern states, the 
judiciary department did not form in Greece a dis- 
tinct^ independent branch of the constitution. On the 
contrary, it was so intimately connected with the rest, 
that it can with difficulty be made a separate object 
of investigation. Hardly any subject in Grecian anti- 
quities is so intricate, or so difficult of explanation ; 
and yet without a knowledge of it, no correct view of 
the andent states can possibly be formed. Our pres- 
ent object is, to develope the general character of 
the judicial institutions, without entering into partic- 
ulars respecting the organization of the Attic courts. 
All that we have to say upon this subject, will find a 
place in our inquiries concerning that state. 

The want of accounts is the chief but not the 
only source of the difficulty, which attends this inves- 
tigation with respect to every state but Athens. 
From the want of uniformity, as well as the foreign 
character of many of the regulations, it would be 
arduous to take a general survey of the subject, even 
if the historical documents were abundant. To gain 
a correct view of it, some attention must be paid to its 
history. 

The judicial institutions of the Greeks, were the 
creation of time and circumstances. The form, there- 



220 GIIAPTER ELEVENTH. 

fore, whicli they eventually assumed, could not well 
correspond to the requisitions of a theory. We are 
forced to content ourselves on many points with say- 
ing that it was so ; without being able to give any 
satisfactory reasons why it was so. 

The judicial institutions of a nation proceed from 
very simple beginnings. Where they are left to be 
developed by circumstances and the necessities of the 
times, they cannot but become more and more intri- 
cate ; since with the progress of culture, new relations 
arise, both at home and with foreign countries. In 
the heroic age, kings sat on the tribunals of justice, 
though even then arbitrators were not unusual.^ There 
existed at that time no written laws ; questions were 
decided by prescription, and good common sense, 
directed by a love of justice. 

When nations begin to emerge from the rude con- 
dition of savages, the first necessity which is felt, is 
that of personal security, and next the security of 
property. National legislation has always commenced 
with the criminal code and the police laws ; the rights 
of citizens were defined more slowly, and at a later 
period ; because it was not sooner necessary. The 
oldest courts of justice were established very early, 
probably in the times of the kings. Their immediate 
object was to pass judgment on the crime of murder 
and other heinous offences. This was the case with 
the Areopagus, the most ancient court with which 
the Greeks were acquainted ; and others were of 
almost as great an age. 

The royal governments passed away ; and the 
popular assemblies took their place. The existing 

* See above, p. 90. 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 221 

courts of justice were then by no means abolished ; 
although in the progress of time, and amidst the rev- 
olutions in the forms of government, they could not 
but undergo various modifications. 

In the states of modern Europe, the form of the 
judicial institutions was in a great measure the result 
of the form of the feudal. In the latter there were 
different degrees of fealty and submission ; and hence 
arose the principle, that no man can be tried by 
any but his peers. Thus a difference in the courts 
was necessarily produced. The immediate vassal of 
the crown recognised only those for his judges, who 
stood in the same rank with himself, and owed fealty 
to the same master. The freeman and the villain 
could not stand before the same tribunal. 

The same principle, that a man must be tried by 
his peers, prevailed amon^ the Greeks. But its ap- 
plication must have produced very different results. 
The community consisted of citizens, who either were 
or claimed to be equal. It discussed all affairs re- 
lating to itself, and hence actions at law among the 
rest. Thus the common assembly performed the 
office of judges ; and the foundation of the popular 
courts of justice was laid. A political notion now 
prevailed, a notion never adopted in our modern con- 
stitutions ; that it was essential for a citizen to take 
a part in the administration of justice. Even in those 
of our modern states which in so many things resem- 
ble the Grecian, the German imperial cities, this idea 
could never have been suggested and applied. They 
had adopted the laws of an ancient nation, written in 
an ancient language ; and to understand them, much 
learning was required, of which not every one could 



222 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

be possessed. It was not so in Greece. The laws 
were in the language of the country ; and although 
their number gradually increased, they were still 
accessible to all. Neither was it necessary to retain 
them in the memory, and have them always present to 
the mind. The orator during his speech, had a read- 
er at his side with a copy of them. Whenever he 
referred to any hiw, it was read aloud ; as is proved 
by a multitude of examples in Demosthenes and others. 
Every thing was, however, transacted orally. The 
judges were not obliged to peruse written documents ; 
they listened, and gave in their votes. 

All this appears very simple, and easy to be un- 
derstood. And yet the judicial institutions of Greece, 
if we should form our opinion from one state, were so 
confused, that it is difficult for the most learned anti- 
quarians to find their way out of the labyrinth. The 
greatest errors are made by those, who, forgetting 
that the institutions in question were not formed sys- 
tematically, but practically with the progress of time, 
endeavour to find the means of explanation in specu- 
lative ideas. 

The first and most important difficulty is presented 
when we attempt to fix the characteristic difference 
between the public and private courts. This differ- 
ence was not only general in the existing states, but was 
adopted by Plato himself in his sketch of a perfect 
colony.^ These two classes were so distinctly sepa- 
rated, that different expressions were appropriated, 
not only for tlie general, but even the particular rela- 
tions of the one and the other.f 

♦ Plato de Legg. L. vi. vol. iv. p. 282. 

t A public accusation was called y^afh and xxmyo^ta, to accuse any one 
Imntitt to be accused fivyuv rriv 7ja(py>. A private suit was called iUti, (9 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 223 

Certain general ideas, according to which Plato 
makes the distinction, lay at the bottom of this divis- 
ion. "One class of judicial processes/' says he,* " is 
formed of the suits which one private man, complain- 
ing of injustice, brings against another. The second 
class, on the contrary, is, when the state believes 
itself injured by one of the citizens, or when a citizen 
comes forward to its assistance. '' According to this 
explanation, nothing would seem simpler, than the 
difference between public and private processes. But 
if we compare the objects comprehended under each 
of the two classes, we shall find many things enumerat- 
ed as affairs of the state, which to us do not seem to 
belong to this class. f Of this, two causes may be 
mentioned. 

The first is the view which the Greeks entertained 
of the relation of the individual citizen to the state. 
The person of the citizen was highly valued ; and 
could not but be highly valued, because the whole 
personal condition was affected by the possession of 
citizenship. An injury done to a private citizen, was 
therefore in some measure an injury inflicted on the 
state ; and so far, almost every injustice suffered by 
the individual, was a public concern. Yet a difference 
existed even here, according to the degree of the 
injury ; nor was it indifferent, whether the rights of 
person^ or only those of property had been violated. 

bring an action tUayuv and ilffipi^uv rm tUnvy to be defendant o(f)ilkiiv nv) Vikvw* 
Such were the expressions at least in Athens. 

♦Plato I.e. 

t In Athens, e.g. there l^elonged to this class, besides several other offen-. 
ces, murder, intentional wounds, adultery, &ic. The public and [»rivatc pro- 
cesses arc enumerated in Sigonius de Repiib. Atlicn. L. iii, and may be 
found also in Potter's Archa;ol. Gra^c. 



224 CHAPTER ELEVENtH. 

A second circumstance also had its influence ; 
prescription for the most part determined what was a 
crime against the public, and what was but a private 
concern. But what had once been established by- 
prescription, was ever after valid as a law. Yet who 
can discover all the causes, perhaps frequently acci- 
dental, by which various suits came to be considered 
in one age or another, as affairs of the public ? 

It would be ineffectual to attempt to draw very 
accurately the line of division according to the sub- 
jects. The most numerous and the most important, 
but not all criminal cases were regarded as public 
concerns. This class embraced not merely offences 
against the state ; though this idea lay at the founda- 
tion. We must rather be content with saying, that 
prescription had caused certain offences to be regard- 
ed as public, and others as private matters. The 
regulations respecting them, were, however, in the 
Attic law very exact ; and it was firmly established, 
which processes belonged to the state, and which to 
individuals. 

The character of the two classes was essentially 
distinguished by this ; that in the public affairs, a 
complaint might be made by any citizen ; and in the 
private, it could be made only by the injured person, 
or his nearest relation ;* for in the one case, the state 
or the whole community was regarded as the injured 
party ; in the other, only the individual. 

But whoever brought the suit, it was necessary in 
private and public concerns for the complainant to en- 
ter his complaint before a magistrate, and definitely 
state the offence, which he charged against the aceus- 

♦ Sec the proofs in Sigoniiis, 1. c. 



1 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 225 

ed. The magistrate, before whom the suit was thus 
commenced, was now obliged to prepare the action, so 
that it could be submitted to the judges. These 
judges were either the whole community ; or some 
particular courts, which may perhaps be best denom- 
inated, committees of the people. For the tribunals 
consisted for the most part of very numerous assem- 
blies, the members of which were selected from the 
citizens by lot, and were required to be thirty years 
old, of a good reputation, and in nothing indebted to 
the state. They were sworn to do their duty ; they 
listened to the orators, both the accusers and the de- 
fendants, to whom a limited time was appointed ; the 
witnesses were examined, and the affair so far brought 
to a close, that the court could pronounce its sentence 
of guilty or not guilty.* In the first case, the nature 
of the punishment remained to be settled. Where this 
was fixed by law, sentence was immediately passed ; 
did the nature of the offence render that impossible, 
the defendant was permitted to estimate the punish- 
ment, of which he believed himself deserving ; and 
the court then decided. 

Those courts were therefore similar both in their 
organization and design to our juries; with this dif- 
ference, that the latter are with us but twelve in num- 
ber, while the former were not unfrequently composed 
of several hundreds. And this is not astonishing, 
for they occupied the place of the whole community, 
or might be regarded as committees of the same ; for 
when suits began to grow frequent, the community 
could not always be assembled. But where the mem- 

♦ This was done in Atliens partly by votes written on small tablets, and 
partly by while and black bean?. 

29 



226 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

bers that constituted the tribunal were so numerous, 
as in the Helisea at Athens, it is hardly credible, that 
every action was tried before the whole assembly. It 
is much more probable, especially when suits were 
multiplied, that the same court of judicature had sev- 
eral divisions, in which the trial of several causes 
could proceed simultaneously.* 

As a difference was made between private and 
public actions, we might expect to find different tribu- 
nals for the one and the other. Yet this was not the 
case ; suits of both kinds could be entered in the 
same courts. The difference must therefore have 
lain in the methods of trial and the legal remedies,! 
which the two parties could employ. We are astonish- 
ed to find, that the rules respecting what suits should 
come before each particular court were so uncertain, 
that it would be vain for us to attempt to settle any 
general principles on the subject. Rut at this mo- 
ment we have in England an example, which shows 
how vain it is to expect exact regulations, where 
courts of justice have been formed and enlarged by cir- 
cumstances. Criminal cases, it is true, belong exclu- 
sively to the court of the King's Bench ; but it shares 
civil actions with the court of Common Pleas, and the 
court of Exchequer, in such a manner, that, with few 
exceptions, certain classes of suits cannot be said to 
belong exclusively to either of these tribunals. 

Our remarks thus far on the organization of the 

* We would not say, that all trials were necessarily brought before those 
courts. In Athens the police officers liad a jurisdiction of their own ; and 
nlVairs belonging to their department appear to have been immediately de- 
cided by them. 

t As e. g. the ?r«g«y^«^«, the irufioirla, and others, in the public trials. 
Sigoii. 1. c. iii. c. 4. 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 227 

courts apply immediately to Athens: but they will 
without doubt admit of a much wider application to 
the other Grecian cities. Yet on one point there ex- 
isted a remarkable difference. Though the popular 
tribunals were generally introduced, they did not pre- 
vail in every state. For if I understand Aristotle 
rightly, there were no popular tribunals in Sparta, 
but all processes were there, as in Carthage, decided by 
magistrates.* If Sparta had had such courts, would 
they not have been mentioned ? But when Aristotle 
says in general, that it is the leading characteristic 
of a democracy, that the citizens should be the judges 
of one another,! may we not infer, and is it not evi- 
dent from the nature of things, that popular tribu- 
nals disappeared, wherever the sway of a few was 
established ? 

The example of Athens shows in a remarkable 
manner, how the institution of these popular tribunals 
could affect the whole character of a state. Such 
could be the case in Athens, where the greatest extent 
was given to the public trials, by permitting any who 
desired, to appear as accusers. The whole organi- 
zation of the Grecian city governments leads us to 
believe, that most of the other cities had popular tribu- 
nals, which, without having exactly the same form, must 
have been similar to those of Athens. Such tribunals 
must have existed in Argos, before the introduction 
of ostracism, and in Syracuse before the similar method 
of banishment by petalism came into vogue. But 

* Aristot. Polit. ii. 11. xa) ras ^ikccs iiTo ruv a^^uuv ^tx,uZ,tff6a,i Taffus, xcct 
fAti aXT^xi v-r aXXuv, uff<ri^ iv KocKiha.lfjLovu Is 5/xaf in this passai;e to be un- 
derstood of all suits at law, or, according to the more strict use of the word, 
only of private suits? 
t Aristot. Polit. vi. 2. 



228 CHAPTER ELEVENTH. 

whether the public processes embraced elsewhere as 
many subjects as at Athens, and as many things, 
which to us seem to regard the private citizen alone, 
is a question which we cannot decide for want of 
information. 

This point has been entirely overlooked by those, 
who have written on the judicial institutions of Greece; 
for they had Athens only in view, and treated the 
subject more as one of jurisprudence than of politics. 
And yet it is of all the most important. The more 
limited was the number of public suits, the smaller 
was the possibility of instituting them, unless some 
personal injury had previously been sustained. In 
the list of public offences at Athens, there were many, 
which, by their very nature, were indefinite. Hence 
it was easy to bring a public action against almost any 
one. We need but think of an age of curruption, to 
understand how Athens, after the Peloponnesian war, 
couid teem with the brood of sycophants, against 
whom the orators are so loud in their complaints ; and 
whom all the measures, first adopted in consequence 
of the magnitude of the evil, all the danger and pun- 
ishments to which l^lse accusers were exposed, were 
never sufiicient to restrain. 

Were other cities, at least the democratic ones, 
in as bad a condition as Athens ? Here we are de- 
serted by history ; which has preserved for us almost 
nothing respecting the extent of the public processes 
and the popular tribunals. But if in Athens several 
adventitious causes, lying partly in the national char- 
acter, and partly in the political power of Athens 
(for the importance of state trials increases with the 
importance of the state), contributed to multiply this 



JUDICIAL INSTITUTIONS. 229 

class of processes ; it by no means follows, that the 
number was much smaller in most of the other Gre- 
cian cities. Popular tribunals are the sources of po- 
litical revolutions ; and what states abounded in them 
more than the Grecian? The man of influence, 
always an object of envy, was the most exposed to ac- 
cusations, where it was so easy to find a ground of 
accusation ; but the man of influence had the greatest 
resources without the precincts of the court. He with 
his party, if he is conscious of possessing sufficient 
strength, has recourse to arms, and instead of suffer- 
ing himself to be banished from the city, prefers to 
terminate the action by driving away his enemies. 
Were we more intimately acquainted with the history 
of the numberless political revolutions in Greece, how 
often would this same succession of events recur? 
But though we are not always able to establish them 
by historical evidence, they cannot on the whole be 
doubted ; and they distinctly exhibit the close con- 
nexion which existed between the states and their 
judicial institutions. 



230 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 



CHAPTER TWELFTH. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 



Though wars were so frequent in Greece, the 
art of war did not make any considerable advances. 
The constitutions and the whole political condition 
opposed too many obstacles ; and war never became 
a science, in the full sense of the word, till standing 
armies were introduced. This has already been 
satisfactorily proved by history. There were some 
individual commanders of great merit, who did all 
that talents could do ; but all that they effected was 
personal. Besides, the extent of states sets limits 
to improvement. These bounds cannot be accurately 
marked, where genius and circumstances exercise so 
much influence ; but the absolute strength must also 
necessarily be considered. The advancement and 
perfecting of the art of war require experiments on 
so large a scale, that small states cannot perform 
them. 

After the republican constitutions of the Greeks 
were established, their armies consisted chiefly of 
militia. Every citizen was obliged to serve in it, 
unless the state itself made particular exceptions. In 
Athens, the obligation continued from the eighteenth 
to the fifty-eighth year; we do not know whether it 
w^as elsewhere the same ; but a great difference could 
hardly have existed. Each citizen was therefore a 



THt ARMY AITD NAVY. ^31 

soldier ; even the inquilini^ the resident strangers, 
were not always spared ;* and there were times of 
distress, when the very slaves were armed, usually 
under the promise of their freedom, if they should do 
their duty.f 

The militia of a country may, under certain cir- 
cumstances, very nearly resemble a standing army. 
Yet the principles on which the two are founded, are 
very different. The citizen who serves as a soldier, 
has for his object the defence of his family and his 
property ; and hence the maxim in states, where the 
army is composed of citizens, that he who has the 
most to lose, will make the best soldier. In Rome 
the poorer class {capite censi)^ till the times of Marius, 
was excluded from military service ; and it seems 
to have been hardly otherwise in Athens.} " Yet this 
poorer class was or grew to be the most numerous ; 
accustomed to privations, those who composed it 
were perhaps for that reason the best fitted for the 
duties of war. When, on the contrary, standing 
armies are formed, property ceases to be regarded ; 
and the greatest number of enlistments is made from 
the needy part of the community. What a contrast 
between this and the Grecian institutions ! 

Considering therefore the moderate extent of the 
Grecian states, it was the less to be expected that any 
of them could assemble a large army, if the slaves 
were not enrolled. Even where every one was put 
in motion, the number remained limited; not more 

♦They were at least obliged sometimes to do naval service. Demosth. 
Phil. i. Op. i. p. 50. 

t Thucyd. iv. 5. 

t Harpocration in ©««;. Yet it is evident from the passage, that the, 
case was different in the time of Demosthenes. 



232 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

than ten thousand Athenians fought on the plain of 
Marathon. Large armies could be collected only by 
the union of many states ; the most numerous ever 
collected in Greece during its independence, was in 
the battle of PlatsBse.* But these considerable alli- 
ances were commonly of a temporary nature ; and for 
that reason the art of war could not be much advanced 
by them. From the battle of Plat^ese till the age 
of Epaminondas, that is, during the most flourishing 
period of Greece, a Grecian army of thirty thousand 
men was probably never assembled in one place. 

1 he Persian wars seem to have been suited to 
promote the improvement of military science. But 
after the battle of PlatsesB, it was the navy and not 
the land forces which became of decisive influence. 
After th^ battle, no considerable one was fought by 
land ; no large Grecian army was again brought 
together. By maintaining the ascendancy in the 
iEgean sea, Greece was protected. 

The petty wars, which, after the victories over the 
Persians, were carried ou between the several states, 
could not contribute much to the advancement of the 
art. They were nothing but single expeditions, 
decided by single insignificant engagements. 

No such advancement could therefore be expected 
till the time of the Peloponnesian war, which involved 
all Greece. But this war soon carae to be carried on 
more by sea than by land ; and the military opera- 
tions consisted principally in sieges. No single great 
battle was fought on land during its whole course ; 
besides naval science, therefore, the art of besieging 

♦ About 1 1 1,000 men. But only 38,000 were heavily armed ; and of Ihe 
lit;lit armed troops, 37,000 were Spartan Helots. Herod, ix. 29, 30. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 233 

may have made some progress, especially in the 
expedition against Syracuse. But as this expedition 
terminated in the total destruction of the army, it 
could have no abiding consequences. 

Till the age of Epaminondas, Sparta and Athens 
are the only states which attract our attention. In 
Sparta, where the militia resembled a standing army, 
it would seem that the art of war might have made 
advances. But two causes prevented. The one was 
the obstinate attachment to ancient usage, which ren- 
dered changes and improvements difficult. The 
other was the remarkable scarcity of great command- 
ers, a scarcity to have been least expected in a war- 
like state ; but which may have proceeded from the 
former cause. If we possessed a history of Pausanias, 
written by himself, it would perhaps show us how his 
talents, limited in their exercise by the regulations of 
his native city, proved ruinous to himself, as in the 
case of the German Wallenstein, by making him a 
traitor. Leonidas has our admiration for his great- 
ness as a man, not as a general ; and the fiery Brasi- 
das, well fitted to be the hero of a revolutionary war, 
like the Peloponnesian, fell in the very beginning of 
his career,* and no worthy successors appeared till 
Lysander and Agesilaus. And of the first of these 
two, it is known that he trusted rather in the Persian 
subsidies than in himself. 

More could then have been expected from Athens. 
But here, as our preceding remarks have made ap- 
parent, the army was subordinate to the navy. From 

♦Thucyd. v. 10. When we read his proclamation, addressed to the 
Acanthians, Thucyd. iv. 85. we believe ourselves brought down to the years 
1793 and 1794. 

30 



234 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

the commencement of the splendid period of that 
republic^ its political greatness rested on the latter. 
This preserved to it the ascendancy ; its allies were 
maritime cities^ and assisted with ships rather than 
with troops ; and the destiny of Athens was decided 
on the sea, gloriously at Salamis, and tragically on 
the Hellespont.* In Athens, therefore, no strong 
motive could exist, to perfect the art of war by 
land. 

Such were the obstacles in general ; others lay in 
the manner in which the military affairs of the Gre- 
cians were organized. We mention first the situation 
of the commanders ; at least in Athens and in several 
other cities ;f in which not one, but several generals 
shared the chief command with one another, and even 
that usually for a short period of time. 

Where a militia exists, the political divisions are 
usually military in their origin. Such was the case 
with the tribes rn Rome and in Athens.J The ten 
wards of this last city had each its own leader ; and 
these together were the generals. 5 So it was in the 
Persian, so in the Peloponnesian vvar.|| That a simi- 
lar regulation existed in Boeotia, is evident from the 
number of their commanders ; and we learn the same 
respecting Syracuse, as well from the history of its 
war with Athens,^ as from the elevation of Dionysius. 
In Athens, a kind of destiny secured in the decisive 
moment, the preponderance to a superior mind, a 

♦ In the year 406 B. C. near -/Egospotamos. 
f As e. g. in Thebes and in Syracuse. 
t These were called Iribus in Rome, ^ukett in Athens. 
§ The ffT^eiTf]yo), of whom ten were annually appointed. 
II Compare the instructive narration in Herod, ri. 109, respecting the 
consultation previous to the battle of Marathon. 
yi Thucyd. vi. 63- 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 235 

Miltiades ; but where the command was shared by so 
many, it is obvious that existing institutions could 
receive but little improvement. 

Another still greater obstacle lay in the circum- 
stance, that the troops were not paid. Before the 
Peloponnesian war, or at least before the administra- 
tion of Pericles, no pay was given in Athens or any 
Grecian city, except, perhaps, Corinth. Military 
service was the duty of a citizen ; and he who 
served, was obliged to provide for himself. But he 
who receives nothing from the state, will the less sub- 
mit to its commands. From that period, the custom 
of paying was so far introduced, that tliose who had 
actually taken the field, received a very small com- 
pensation.* With such a constitution, moral causes 
must have outweighed commands. Courage and 
patriotism can animate an army of citizens, but can 
hardly make a machine of them ; and what fruits 
would have been gathered by him, who should have 
succeeded in the attempt ? 

Beside these difficulties, there existed in many 
states another, arising from the weakness of their 
cavalry, or a total want of it. Homer knows nothing 
of cavalry. It does not seem to have been introduced 
into the Grecian states till after the establishment of 
republican forms of government ; since, according to 
the remark of Aristotle, the opulent citizens found in 
it at once a support of their power and a gratification 
of their vanity.f But whether a city could have 
cavalry, depended on the nature of its territory, and 
the quantity of pasture which it possessed. Where 

♦The Athenians paid from two to four oboli daily. 
t Oh Sparta, consult Xenoph. Op. p. 596. 



;136 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

the territory was not favourable, the cavalry was not 
strong. Athens, where so much attention was paid 
to this subject, never had more than a thousand men ; 
Sparta appears, before Agesilaus, to have had few, 
or perhaps originally none at all ; the Peloponnesus 
was little adapted to it ; and Thessaly, the only state 
of the mother country which possessed any consider- 
able body of it, was not remarkably skilful in making 
use of it.* Where it existed, none but wealthy citi- 
zens could serve in it, for the service was expensive. 
This was the case in Athens ;f and yet here the state 
provided for the support of the horses even in time 
of peace ; and the weak but splendid cavalry formed 
no inconsiderable article in the sum of the yearly 
cxpenditures.J 

Previous to the Macedonian times, the distinction 
between heavy and light horse seems to have been 
unknown in Greece ; though it would be too much 
to assert that a difference in the equipments nowhere 
prevailed. The Athenian horsemen were equipped 
much like a modern cuirassier, with breastplate, hel- 
met, and greaves ; and even the horses were partly 
covered.^ From the exercises which Xenophon 
prescribes, to leap over ditches and walls, we must 
not conceive the armour as too cumbersome. || I find 
no accounts of that of the Thessalian cavalry ; but 

♦ See llic account of their war with the Phocians. Pausan. p. 798. The 
forces of Thessaly seeiu to have consisted chiefly in cavalry ; at least noth- 
ing else is mentioned. The surest proof of their little progress in the art 
of war. 

i The knights, IrTi?;, formed the second class according to property. 

\ According to Xenoph. de Magist. Lquit. Op. p. 95G, it cost 40 talents 
annually. 

§ Xenoph. de Re Equestri, Op. p. 951, has described them minutely. 

II Xenoph. Op. p. 914: 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 237 

from what Pausanias says of it, it could not have been, 
very light. ^' 

With respect to the infantry, the difference between 
heavy and light armed troopsf prevailed thoughout 
all Greece. The former were armed for the attack 
and close conflict. They wore a coat of mail and 
helmet ; the rest of the body was protected by the 
shield. For the attack they had both spear and 
sword. The light troops, unincumbered with that 
heavy armour, carried the javelin, with bow and 
arrows. J 

The weapons continued, therefore, the same as 
those which we find used in the Homeric age. But 
many inquiries and many attempts were made, to 
improve them in various respects. Whether a 
straight or curved sword was the best ;^ whether a 
longer or a shorter shield deserved the preference ;|| 
above all, how the weight of the coat of mail could 
be diminished, and whether it should be made of met- 
al or of some lighter substance,1I were questions of no 
little importance. Yet previous to the Macedonian 
age, we hear of no changes which could give a new 
character to the whole ; and therefore we must leave 
to the antiquarian all farther particular researches. 

♦Pausan. p. 797. The horsemen who had been thrown down, being un- 
able to rise, were slain by the Phocians. 

■f'O^xTren and -^iXo), See Potter's Archajolog. 

I Bow and arrows do not seem to have been favourite weapons; they 
are seldom mentioned, and only in connexion with certain tribes, as the 
Cretans. Javelins were preferred. These were carried by the cavalry, as 
appears from Xenoph. 11. cc. 

§ Xenoph. Op. p. 953. 

II Hence the different names ^v^tog and (raxos, the large shield, afir)s and 
TiXrv, the small one, &:c. 

H The invention of the lighter coat of mail distinguishes Iphicrates. Cor- 
nel. Nep. in Iphic. c. 1. 



238 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

On the other hand, we ask leave, so far as one whe 
has not been initiated into the art of war, may ven- 
ture his opinions, to offer some remarks respecting the 
progress made by the Greeks in the art which relates 
to the positions and evolutions of armies, all which 
we comprehend under the word tactics. We the 
more desire to do this, because it will afford us a 
favourable opportunity of expressing an opinion on 
some of their most distinguished generals. It can 
with truth be said, that the art of tactics is in some 
respects independent of the progress of the other 
branches of military science ; and in others is neces- 
sarily dependent on them. It is independent, so 
far as we speak of taking advantage of situation and 
the ground. The leader of a savage horde may profit 
by his position, no less than the commander of the 
best disciplined army. Each will do it in his own 
way. It is an affair of superior minds, and rules 
cannot be given on the subject. He can do it, to whom 
nature has given the necessary keenness and quick- 
ness of view. This art is therefore always the prop- 
erty of individuals ; it cannot be propagated or pre- 
served by instructions. Entirely the reverse is true 
of the drawling up of an army, and the evolutions 
dependent thereupon. They rest upon rules and 
knowledge, which are lasting ; though we readily 
concedc that this is but as it were the inanimate 
body of the art, into which genius must breathe life. 
Modern history has shown by a great example, how 
those forms may continue in the most courageous and 
best disciplined army, and yet produce no effect when 
the spirit of them has passed away. But here a sub- 
ject is proposed to the historian, of which he can 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 239 

treat. Can this be done better than by comparing 
together several of the principal engagements, of which 
detailed accounts have been preserved ? Inferences 
which may thus be drawn respecting the progress of 
tactics, can hardly be exposed to any considerable 
errors. 

In the Persian wars, the victory of Marathon was 
the first splendid military action of the Greeks, or rath- 
er of the Athenians. Athens owed it to the heroic 
spirit of her Miltiades. It was he who turned the scale, 
when it was still a question, whether a battle sliould 
be ventured or not. The voices of the ten leaders, 
of whom Miltiades was one, were divided ; the elev- 
enth vote of the Polemarch was to decide. At this 
moment Miltiades arose and addressed the Polemarch 
Callimachus.* '' It now rests with you to reduce 
Athens to slavery, or, setting it free, to leave a repu- 
tation among men, such as neither Harmodius nor 
Aristogiton has left ; for long as the city of Athens 
has existed, it has never been in any danger like the 
present. If it should submit to the Persians, it is 
already determined what it will suffer under its 
tyrants ; should it be saved, it can become the first 
of Grecian cities. If we do not join battle, I fear a 
faction will confuse the minds of the Athenians, and 
make them Persian ; if we fight, victory will be ours 
with the gods/' History can relate of a great man, 
nothing more important than his conduct in the most 
decisive moment of his life. Miltiades himself could 
not have forboded how much depended on that mo- 
ment ; yet he gained his end, and Callimachus adopt- 
ed his opinion. But besides the talent of the general, 

* Herod, vi. 109. 



240 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

who knew how to avail himself of his position to cover 
his wings, the victory was not less decided by the 
discipline of the Athenian militia, accustomed to 
preserve their ranks even while advancing with ra- 
pidity. They ran to the encounter :^ the first of the 
Greeks, who did so. The wings of the enemy were 
discomfited ; and the name of Marathon became im- 
mortal among men. 

The battle of Platseae, which happened eleven 
years later^f i^ one of those, respecting which we have 
the most accurate accounts.J The motions of the 
army on the preceding days, give it an importance 
for the student of tactics. In his evolutions the Per- 
sian general seems to have been superior to the Gre- 
cian ; for he cut off all communication with them, and 
all supplies of water, and compelled them to change 
their encampment. But the want of cavalry in the 
face of an army which abounded in it, made every mo- 
tion of the Greeks difRcult ; and when we remember 
the internal organization of the army, and the little 
power possessed by the commander, not only over the 
allies, but even over his own Spartans,^ we shall discov- 
er still greater difficulties, with which Pausanias had to 
contend. And yet the Grecians obtained a splendid 
victory ; but it was far more the result of the despe- 

♦ U ^^ofj^at, Herod, vi. 112. Herodotus says expressly, that they made the 
attack w ilh closed ranks, if^ooi; we must not therefore think of a wild on- 
set. They had neither cavalry nor archers ; just as the Swiss at Novara in 
1513 were without cavalry and artillery ; in each case the result was the 
same. When enthusiasm makes the attack, computation ceases to be valid. 

tin the year 479 B. C. 

t Herod, ix. 28, etc. Plutarch, in Aristide. Op. ii. p. 510, etc. has made 
use of Herodotus. 

§ See in Herodotus, and Plutarch 11. cc. p. 517, the relation of the disobe- 
dience of Amompharetus, in confirmation of the remark which we made 
above, p. 233, ou Pausanias. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 'Ml 

rate attack made by the Tegeans and the Spar- 
tans, than of artful evolutions. In the days which 
preceded the battle, Pausanias appears as a general 
of prudence and sound judgment; he owed the 
victory not to himself, but to a part of his army and 
to fortune. 

Of the battles which the able and successful Cimon 
won of the Persians, history has preserved no details ; 
but yet enough to show, that the science of tactics 
was not advanced by them. They were for the most 
part naval engagements ; those which took place on 
land, were only unexpected attacks. After his death, 
Plutarch tells us expressly^ nothing great or consider- 
able was executed.* 

The first campaigns of the Peloponnesian war 
show beyond dispute, that the art of war, in a higher 
sense, had made but little progress. They were only 
inroads followed by nothing decisive. We have al- 
ready remarked, why, in the progress of that long 
and weary war, tactics gained so little. 

The case was changed, when, after this war, 
Sparta, contending for the rank she had won, found 
her Agesilaus, and was yet obliged to yield the ascen- 
dancy to Thebes. Here the decision was made by 
armies and not by navies. In the view of those states, 
therefore, armies rose in importance. 

We will not refuse to Agesilaus any of the praises 
which Xenophon has lavished on him. He was a mod- 
el not only of a Spartan, but of a Grecian general. 
In the Spartan method of war, he made one change ; 
in his wars against the Persians in Asia, he was the 
first to form a numerous cavalry ; and to show that he 

♦Plutarch, in Cimone, Op. iii. p. 217. 

31 



242 CHAPTEU TWELFTH. 

knew the use of it* Except this, he made no essen- 
tial alteration in the tactics. The proof of this is 
found in the description which Xenophon has givenf 
of the battle of Coronea. The same usual position 
was taken ; the usual method of attack, by opposing 
a straight line to a straight line ; without any artifi- 
cial evolutions, either before or during the battle. 

If it should appear from all this, that the higher 
branches of the art of war, including tactics, had not 
made so considerable progress as might have been 
expected from the greatest of commanders, we would 
not in any degree diminish the fame of those distin- 
guished men. Their glory rests on something inde- 
pendent of the mere evolutions of their armies. The 
Grecian leader was more closely united to his sol- 
diers ; he was obliged to know how to gain the 
confidence of his fellow-soldiers, who at the same time 
were his fellow-citizens. This could not be done by 
commands ; rank and birth were here of no avail ; 
every thing depended on personal character ; and to 
be esteemed a great man it was necessary to give 
proofs of greatness. 

It is the glory of the Greek nation, that it produc- 
ed in almost every science and art the man, who first 
clearly recognised the eternal principles on which it 
rests, and by the application of them, unconsciously 
became the instructer of posterity. In the art of war, 
such a man appeared in Epaminondas. His fame as a 
warrior is his least glory ; the world should behold in 
him the noblest character of his nation. He was for his 

* Kut that t(>o was only temporary. The battle of Leuctra shows how 
bad tlie Spartan cavalry was at a subsequent period. See Xenoph. Op. p. 696. 
> Xenoph. in Agcsil. Op. p. 659. 



THE ARMY AND NA.VY. 243 

age, what Giistavus Adolphus was for a later one. If 
we take from each of these great men, the peculiari- 
ties of their times, it will be difiicult to find two more 
congenial spirits, two characters more nearly resem- 
bling each other. The parallel we leave for others to 
draw ; of both we never can hear too much ; it is 
Epaminondas, the skilful soldier, whom we are now to 
consider. The idea on which his change in the method 
of war was founded, was as simple as the man him- 
self ; and we can hardly fail of observing, that it pro- 
ceeded from his peculiar situation. With an inferior 
force he had to cope with a more powerful adversary ;* 
and this is the true criterion of military genius. It 
did not escape him, that he could not succeed with 
the former order of battle, according to which one 
line was drawn up in front of the other. Hence he 
determined to concentrate the attack in one point with a 
part of his army, whilst he withdrew the rest ; and his 
object was, in that one point to break through the hostile 
line. In this manner he was triumphant at Leuctra, 
where he fell upon the right wing of the Spartans. But 
at Leuctra, the success of the Theban cavalry had led 
the way to a successful issue ; it is at Mantinea, that 
we see for the first time the full application of the 
new tactics, which are described to us by one pro- 
foundly acquainted with the subject. ^* Epaminon- 
das," says Xenophon,t *^ advanced with his army like 
a galley with threatening prow ; sure that if he could 
once break through the line of his adversaries, a 

♦The Spartan forces in the battle of Leuctra were thrice as numerous as 
the Theban ; and besides, till that time, had been reckoned invincible. 

tXenoph. H. Gr. vi. Op. p. 596. We learn from the same passage how 
much the excellent Theban cavalry (formed by Pelopidas) surpassed the 
Spartan. 



244 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

general flight would ensue. He therefore determined 
to make the attack with the flower of his army, while 
he drew back the weaker part of it.^^ Thus the 
illustrious Theban solved the great problem in tactics, 
by means of its position, to use the several parts of an 
army at will ; the art of war, which was thus invented, 
deserved the name, and was the same which ensured 
to Alexander the victory on the Granicus, as well as 
to Frederic at Leuthen. It is easy to be perceived, 
that the execution of the plan was a still greater effort 
than its invention. Troops far better trained than 
the usual armies of the Greeks, were needed. And 
it is in this very circumstance, that Xenophon, him- 
self an experienced officer, places the great merit of 
Epaminondas.* 

We may therefore say with truth, that the higher 
branches of the art of war began with Epaminondas 
to be understood. But even before him, a change 
had gradually taken place in the whole military 
regulations ; a change of the most decisive impor- 
tance. 

We allude to the custom of paying the troops. 
In states which originally made exclusive use of mili- 
tia, the form and the spirit of their military institu- 
tions must have been changed by the introduction of 
mercenary troops. These could not have the internal 
regulations of the militia; which were founded on the 
division of the citizens ; and although the Swiss mer- 
cenaries of the sixteenth century have proved that 
battles can be gained even with hired soldiers, yet 
the examples of those times have also proved that 
evils are inseparable from the custom. 

♦ Xenoph. Op. p. 645. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 245 

The use of mercenaries in Greece, may be traced 
to a very remote period. The tyrants, those usurpers 
who made their appearance in the cities at so early a 
date, were doubtless the first to introduce it ; because 
they needed an armed force to protect their usurped 
authority. But this force did not always consist of 
foreigners ; but rather, especially in the early times, 
of an armed party of the citizens, or was selected 
from among the partisans of the tyrant ;*' and further, 
an institution which was regarded as unjust, could 
not continue, still less be adopted and regularly es- 
tablished. 

Hired troops, of which we would here treat, began 
to be employed in the Grecian cities at a later period. 
In the beginning of the Persian war, at Marathon and 
at Platsese we hear nothing of them. In the Pelopon- 
nesian war, they were commonly,f and after these 
times, almost universally employed. Several causes 
operated to produce this effect. 

The first was the whole condition of private life. 
When luxury and the comforts of life were introduced 
after the Persians were known, it is not astonishing 
that the rich desired to be free from military service. 
On the other hand, the Peloponnesian war and the 
almost universal revolutions produced by it, had so 
increased the number of the poor, that there was a 

♦This was done by Pisistratus on his first usurpation ; Herod, i. 59. In 
later times (let the history of Syracuse be called to mind), the hired troops 
of the tyrants were wholly or chiefly composed of foreigners. 

t The hired troops of the Spartans, from the Peloponnesus, arc mentioned 
as early as the times of Brasidas ; Thucyd. L. iv. 80; those of Athens from 
Thrace, about the same time ; Thucyd. L. v. 6. ; those of the Corinthians 
and others we find constantly mentioned. In the Peloponnesus, it was 
chiefly the Arcadians who served as mercenaries ; hence the proverb among 
the poets ; l^ *A§*«S/«j Ir^xev^u/, Athen. i. p. 27, for they did not serve fov 
nothing. 



246 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

numerous class who made a profession of war, and 
were ready to serve any one who would pay them. 
But still more important was the fact, that with the 
Persians no less than the Greeks, the same change in 
domestic life produced the same consequences. The 
subsidies of the former first enabled the Spartans to 
hire troops. But they soon hired in their turn, and 
in greater numbers than the Greeks ; and no merce- 
naries were so acceptable, none so indispensable to 
them as the Grecian. The high wages which they 
gave, like those of the British in modern times, allur- 
ed numerous troops across the sea ; and we need but 
call to mind the ten thousand whom Clearchus led to 
Cyrus the younger, and with whom Xenophon made 
his retreat,* to be convinced that great multitudes 
followed this kind of life. The subsequent Phocian 
warf was conducted by the Phocians, who were aided 
by the treasures of Delphi, almost exclusively with 
hired troops ; and Demosthenes is loud in his com- 
plaints and censure of a custom, which all his elo- 
quence was not able to change.} 

Of all writers, Isocrates has spoken the most distinct- 
ly on this subject. His long life continued almost 
through the whole period in which this custom arose ; 
and the consequences were so distinctly visible in his 
old age, his patriotism could not but break forth in 
lamentations. Those very troops of Clearchus and 
Xenophon, troops which had made the Persians trem- 
ble, — who were they? Men, says Isocrates,^ of such 
reputation, that they could not reside in their native 

♦111 the year 400 B. C. 

t Called also the Sacred war, from 3o7 till 347 B, C. 

t J^ee Ins Philippic and Olynthiac orations. 

§ Isocrat. Panegyr. Op. p. 71. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 247 

cities. '^Formerly/' says he in another place,^ 
'' there was no such thing as mercenaries ; now the 
situation of Greece is such, that it would he far easi- 
er to raise an army of vagabonds than of citizens." 
The natural consequence of this state of things was, 
that he who had the most money, had also the most 
power. He could raise an army at will. But on 
how uncertain a foundation did this power repose ? 
The rich man can be outbid by the rich ; and Greece 
learned, what Carthage learned also with a more melan- 
choly certainty,! that a state which trusts to mercenary 
troops, must finally tremble before them. " Unless 
we are careful," says Isocrates to Philips " to pro- 
vide for the support of these people by establish- 
ing colonies of them, they will soon collect in vast 
troops, and be more formidable to the Hellenes, than 
the barbarians."^ 

We have already remarked, that in the eyes of 
the Greeks, the navy was more important than the 
army. They very early distinguished ships of war 
from merchant vessels ; of which the consequence 
was, that, as the former belonged to the state, to build 
and fit out fleets was entirely a public concern. Yet 
to judge correctly of the condition and progress of 
naval science among the Greeks, we must not forget, 
that the scene of action for their squadrons was and 
continued to be, limited to the jEgean and Ionian seas. 
The expedition of Athens against Syracuse, is the 
most distant which was ever undertaken by any 

♦isocrat. Or. ad Phil. Op. p. 101. 
t In the wars with the mercenaries, 240 — 237 B. C. 
t Isocrat. ad Philip. Op. p. 106. 

§ We learn from Xenophon's retreat, that they were formidable to their 
o^vn commanders ; just as were the Swiss at Milan. 



248 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

Grecian fleet of the mother country ; with what suc- 
cess is known. Even the Black sea, though open to 
their vessels of commerce, was hardly visited by their 
gallies of war, because no occasion ever required it. 
The seas which they navigated were full of islands ; 
it was never diflicult to find landing-places and har- 
bours ; and the naval expeditions were not much 
more than passages by sea. Farther; Greece, especially 
the most cultivated eastern part of it, did not abound 
in wood ; and though some of the western or inland 
districts* were better provided with it, the rivers, 
which were hardly more than mountain streams, 
afforded little opportunity for the transportation of 
timber. The cities, therefore, which built fleets, were 
obliged to seek their timber at a distance; we know 
of Athens, that it imported what it needed from 
Thrace.t The expense was therefore necessarily 
great ; none but the richest cities were able to bear 
them ; and hence it is easy \o see, that limitations 
were produced, which make the exertions of several 
states for their navy, appear to us in a very extraor- 
dinary light. Finally ; the manning of the fleets 
was attended with peculiar difficulties. Two kinds 
of men, mariners and soldiers, were employed. The 
latter were citizens, and belonged to the militia ; but 
according to the earlier regulations, the citizens were 
not obliged to do service on board of the ships. Slaves 
were used in part, especially for the oars ; and in 
part foreigners were hired. Such is the description 
given by Isocrates. ^* Formerly," says he,t " in the 
better times of Athens, foreigners and slaves were 

♦ As Acarnania and Arcadia. t Thucyd. iv. 108. 

\ Isocral. de Pace, Op. p. 169. See Scheffer de Milit. Naut. ii. 3w 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 249 

used for the management of the vessels ; but cit- 
izens performed service in arms. Now the case 
is reversed ; those of the city are compelled to serve 
as mariners,* while the soldiers consist of mercena- 
ries." The manning of the fleets was therefore at- 
tended with great expense ; and it is known respect- 
ing them from the Peloponnesian war, that Sparta 
could not have borne them but for the alliance and 
subsidies of Persia. 

These causes are sufficient to limit our expecta- 
tions of the naval affairs of the Grecians. Yet here, 
also, the different epochs must be distinguished. 

We learn of Homer and of the Argonautic poets, 
that the Greeks even in the heroic age had ships, 
which were fitted out for distant voyages. The pira- 
cy, which before that period had been so common, 
must have made it necessary for ships to be prepared, 
not only for carrying freight, but for fighting. These 
vessels were called longj by way of distinguishing 
them from the more ancient, round ones, which were 
fit only for the transportation of merchandise ; though 
we would by no means deny, that the former were 
also used for the purposes of commerce. It was char- 
acteristic of them, that all the rowers sat in one line. 
In such times of insecurity, fast sailing is the chief merit 
of a vessel ; be it for the attack or for flight. This 
must have been promoted in the lengthened vessels, 
both by the form itself, and the increased number of 
rowers ; which gradually rose from twenty to fifty 
and even more. Hence there was a particular class 

* Especially the Inquilini. See above; p. 231. 

32 



250 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

of ships, which derived their name from that circum- 
stance.* 

But the incident which made a real and the only 
epoch in the history of Grecian naval architecture, is 
the invention of the triremes. They were distinguished 
hy the triple order of benches for rowing, placed one 
above the other.f It thus became necessary to build 
them much higher ; and though swiftness may have 
been carefully regarded, strength and firmness must 
have been viewed as of equal importance. But 
even before the Macedonian times, and always after 
them, the chief strength of the Grecian fleet lay in 
the triremes, just as that of modern fleets in ships of 
the line of the second and third rate. 

The structure of the triremes would alone warrant 
the inference, that a naval force, that is, a squadron 
destined solely for war, and possessed by the state, 
did not exist in Greece till after these were invented. 
But there is in ThucydidesJ a passage, which in 
my opinion settles this point beyond a doubt. ^' When, 
after the abolition of monarchies, the cities became 
more wealthy, the Greeks began to build fleets, and to 
pay more attention to the sea. The Corinthians were 
the first to change the ships according to our present 
form ; for in Greece the first triremes were built at 
Corinth ; and it was the ship-builder Aminocles of 
Corinth, who built for the Samians four (such) vessels, 

* The TTivrrtKovrt^oi. See Scheffer de Varietate Nav. in Gronov. Thes. 
xi. p. 762. 

t Scheffer tie Milit. Naval, ii. 2. T believe this point, once so much con- 
tested, is now no longer doubted ; although uncertainty still exists respecting 
the order of the rows. Compare the prints and illustrations in Antichitili d^ 
Ercolano, T. v. at the end. 

t Thusyd. i. 13. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 251 

But it was about three hundred years before the end of 
this war,* that Aminocles came to the Samians. The 
oldest naval battle with which we are acquainted, was 
fought between the Corinthians and the Corcyrseans ; 
since that time, two hundred and sixty years have 
elapsed.'^! 

This testimony, more important than all the ac- 
counts of later grammarians and compilers, proves 
that it was in the seventh century that the Grecian 
cities began to support fleets. The account of the 
great historian is made much clearer by the inquiries 
respecting Grecian commerce,J which show that the 
same period beheld the seeds of Grecian cities, planted 
on the seacoast from Asia to Sicily, spring up and 
flourish in the genial beams of liberty. The year, it 
is true, is not mentioned, in which the first triremes 
were built in Corinth ; but the whole connexion shows, 
that the invention was still recent in the age of Ami- 
nocles ; and as the first naval battle between the 
Greeks was fought forty years later, it is obvious, 
that they were then but beginning to support fleets. 

But at the same time we must confess that naval 
architecture, after this first great step, made no fur- 
ther considerable advances before the Macedonian 
age. Thucydides says this expressly ; for he observes, 
that the Corinthians gave the ships the form which 
they continued to have in his time. Neither did it 
at once become a general custom to build triremes. Till 
the Persian wars, the use of the long ships and those of 
fifty oars was the most usual ; the Syracusans and Cor- 
cyrseans were, about this time, the first to have whole 
fleets consisting of triremes. || In these, many improve- 

♦ About 700 years B. C. f About 640 years B. C. 

-t See above, p. H4. || Thucyd. i. 14. 



252 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

ments may have been made ; but as no essential 
change took place, we leave this subject and many 
others relating to naval matters, to the industry of 
the antiquarian. 

We would only add a few remarks on the naval 
tactics of the Greeks. Did they receive a scientific 
form earlier than the military ? And if so, through 
whom, and by what means ? And here the reader 
must not forget, that we are treating of the times pre- 
vious to the dominion of Macedonia. 

It is apparent from the preceding observations, 
that the Greeks had more reason to improve their 
naval than their military tactics. They were often 
obliged to contend with fleets, not only superior to 
theirs in numi)er, but also in the excellence of the 
vessels ; for in the Persi:in wars, the squadrons of the 
Phoenicians were arrayed against them. Even when 
the victory had been gained, the safety of Greece still 
depended on its maritime force. This formed the 
foundation of the greatness of the first of the Grecian 
cities. Naval actions, more than battles by land, 
decided the destiny of the states. What circumstan- 
ces and relations could be more favourable to the 
display of great talents ? And where may we indulge 
greater expectations, especially when we look through 
the lists of the men to whom Athens and Sparta 
entrusted the command of their squadrons? 

We can best commence the history of the naval 
tactics of Greece, at the period in which we have 
descriptions of their engagements at sea. The earli- 
est account which we possess, is of the battle which 
took place near the island Lada, off Miletus, between 
the Ionian fleet and that of the Phoenicians in the 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 253 

service of Persia. The navy of the lonians had then 
reached its best state ; it consisted of not less than 
three hundred and fifty triremes^ while that of the 
Phoenicians was almost twice as large. We find that 
an artful position was taken in the days before the 
battle. In the divisions of the first line, there were 
intervals, through which those of the second could 
sail.* But the battle itself is not instructive, as the 
Persians previously succeeded in dividing the fleet of 
the allies. 

When Xerxes invaded Greece, Themistocles gain- 
ed the glory of being his country's preserver by sea. 
But it must not be forgotten, that though he was the 
commander of the Athenians, he had not the general 
command of the allies. This post he had the pru- 
dence and moderation to yield, at least nominally, to 
Eurybiades the Spartan.f Still it was Themistocles 
who directed the whole, not by commands, but by 
persuasion ; and in this art who was equal to him ? 
Twice he ventured to meet the much superior navy of 
the Persians ; first at Artemisium, then at Salamis. 
But in both instances he remedied his inferiority, not 
so much by artful manoeuvres, as by choosing his situ- 
ation. He would not meet the immense Persian fleet 
in the open sea ; where the wings of the enemy would 
have unavoidably extended beyond his own. Hence he 
chose his first position at the northern entrance of the 
strait of Eubcea,t and after the indecisive engagements 

♦Herod, vi. 12, etc. Here too we have an instance of how little could 
be eifected by the commander. 

t On this and what follows, consult the interesting narrative of Herodo* 
tu8, viii. 2. 

t The Euripus, as it was called. The Persians sent a part of their squad- 
ron round the island, to block up the southern entrance, and thus cut off the 



254 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

of Artenusiunij retreated through those straits to the 
Saronic bay ; where the nook between Attica and the 
island of Salamis offered a station still more secure. 
In such a position, where the enemy is expected in 
close array, mancEuvres are not further needed ; but 
the relation of Herodotus leaves us in doubt, whether 
most to admire the discernment, or the prudence and 
adroitness of the commander. 

Of the later naval engagements w^hich took place 
in the course of those wars, we have only general 
accounts. The Greeks beat the Persians too easily. 
Where an enemy is despised, the art of war cannot 
make much progress. 

We have particular accounts^ of the naval fight, 
which, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, 
took place between the Corcyrseans and Corinthians ; 
and after which, both nations erected a trophy. The 
fleet of the Corinthians formed one line ; that of the 
Corcyrseans, on the contrary, was drawn up in three 
divisions. But the historian remarks, that no man- 
ceuvres took place ; they grappled at once, and ship 
fought singly with ship. All that we read of the fleet of 
the Corcyrseans, gives us no high opinion of their skill 
in naval tactics. In a second naval engagement with 
the Peloponnesians, they showed still less adroitness, 
and would have been ruined, had not the division of 
the Athenians covered their retreat. f 

The naval tactics which were now known to the 
Greeks, consisted chiefly in sailing round, and sailing 
through the enemy's line. J The object of the first 

retrcut of the Greeks; but thtir squadron was destroyed by a storm. 
Herod. I. c. 

• Tluicyd. i. 47, etc. t Thucyd. iii. 77, 78. 

t Ut^trXiTf and inx^XiTu Thucyd. vii. 36. Xenoph. H. Gr. i. Op. p. 44€. 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 1^55 

was, to extend the line beyond the opposite wings ; 
of the second, Xo break through the hostile line. To 
prevent this, the other fleet was drawn up in two lines, 
both with intervals, so that the divisions of the second 
line could pass through the intervals in the first, and 
thus assist them, when assistance was needed. This 
order was particularly understood by the Athenians, 
who also adopted another method of attack, not with 
the prow, but obliquely from the side ; so that the oars 
of the enemy's ship were broken, and the ship thus 
made unmanageable. In those matters, the Athenians 
were superior not only to the Spartans, but even to 
the Syracusans.* 

The two last years of the Peloponnesian war were 
particularly remarkable for naval encounters ; but for 
a knowledge of tactics, the engagement between the 
Spartans under Callicratidas, and the Athenians, near 
Lesbos, alone deserves notice ; for it gives us an ex- 
ample of the management of a squadron in a double 
row. The Athenian fleet was drawn up in two lines, 
both on the right and the left wing. Each wing con- 
sisted of two divisions, each division of fifteen ships ; 
and was supported by equal divisions in the second 
line ; the centre was composed of one line. This 
order, says Xenophon,f was chosen, that the fleet 
might not be broken through. The Spartan fleet, on 
the contrary, formed but one line ; prepared for sail- 
ing round or breaking through the enemy. The bat- 
tle was obstinate ; it was long before the Athenians 
gained the victory, as Callicratidas fell. His steers- 
man, before the battle, had advised him to retreat, on 

♦ See the discription of the fight in Thucyd. I.e. 
tXen.Op. p. 446. 



256 CHAPTER TWELFTH. 

account of the greatly superior force of the Athenians* 
" Were I to fall^ Sparta could exist as .well/' was his 
answer. 

The naval tactics of the ancients were further im- 
proved in the wars between the Romans and Cartha- 
ginians, and under the Ptolomies. In forming an 
opinion respecting them, two things should not be 
forgotten. First ; less depended on the winds than 
in modern tactics ; for the triremes were moved rath- 
er by oars than sails. Secondly ; where battles were 
always fought near at hand, and the ships always ran 
along side of each other, the manoeuvres of the fleets 
could not be so various or so important, as where the 
ships remain at a certain distance, and manoeuvres are 
performed during the whole action. But though the naval 
tactics of the moderns are more difficult and intricate, 
we must not infer that the naval battles of the ancients 
were comparatively insignificant. They decided wars 
in ancient times much more frequently than in mod- 
ern ; and if the loss of men is to be taken into consid- 
eration, it might easily be shown, that one naval battle 
of the ancients often swept away more men, than three 
or even more in our age. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 257 



CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 

The character of the statesman in republics like 
the Grecian must^ in many respects, differ from the 
statesman of the modern European monarchies ; and 
can be sketched with difficulty. Yet it is necessary to 
form a distinct conception of the sphere of action, in 
which those men exerted themselves, who justly form 
the pride of antiquity. But it may seem the less su- 
perfluous to enter into this subject, since we shall thus 
gain an opportunity of forming more correct opinions 
respecting several of those men. Though Athens 
was their home and the theatre of their actions, they 
were the property of Greece ; and are here to be held 
up as the representatives of so many others, of whom 
history has preserved for us less information, because 
they made their appearance in cities of less renown. 

The different character of the Grecian states ne- 
cessarily exercised an influence on the character of the 
statesmen, who appeared in them. Where the law 
exercised unlimited power as it did in Sparta, there 
was no room for demagogues like those of Athens. 
But difference of time was as influential as the dif- 
ference of constitutions. How then could it be other- 
wise expected, than that with the increasing culture 
of the nation, there should be a change in the influ- 
ence and the conduct of those who were at its head. 
38 



S58 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

In the age of Solon, men first appeared in the 
mother country, who were worthy of the name of 
statesmen. Many had before that period been in 
possession of power, and not unfrequently had be- 
come tyrants ; but none can be called statesmen, as 
the word itself denotes, except those, who as freemen 
conduct the affairs of cultivated nations. 

In Solon's age,* the relations of the Grecian states 
had not yet become intricate. No one of them exer- 
cised sway over the rest ; and no one endeavoured to 
do so ; even the importance of Sparta in the Pelo- 
ponnesus was founded on her attempts to liberate the 
cities from the yoke of the tyrants. In such a period, 
when the individual states were chiefly occupied with 
their own concerns and those of their nearest neigh- 
bours, the statesman's sphere of action could not for 
any length of time be extended bejond the internal 
government and administration. The seven wise 
men, from whom the Greeks date the age in which 
politics began to be a science, were not speculative 
philosophers, but rulers, presidents, and counsellors 
of states ; rulers, as Periander of Corinth, aud Pitta- 
cus of Mitylene ; presidents, as Solon of Athens, 
Chilo of Sparta, Cleobulus of Lindus ; counsellors, 
as Bias and Thales of various princes and cities. f Of 
these, Solon is the only one with whom we are much 
acquainted; he is known as a lawgiver, and also as 
a soldier and poet. But it was not till after the wars 
with Persia, that the men appeared, whom we can 
call statesmen in the modern sense of the word. For 

♦ Between 600 and 550 years B. C. 

t See Diog. Lnert. i. c. 1 — 5, The passages which relate to them, have 
already been collected and illustrated by Meiner and other writers on the 
history of philosophy. Meiner's Geschichte der Wissenschaften, i. p. 43. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 259 

it was then for the first time, when a contest arose 
with a nation to all appearances infinitely superior in 
power, and the question of existence was at issue, and 
when good counsel was not less important than action, 
that a greater political interest was excited, which 
employed the strongest minds. And this interest 
was not and could not be transitory. For it gave 
birth in Greece to the idea of supremacy, which a 
single state obtained and preserved for nearly seventy 
years; and which, as we have already remarked,* 
became the foundation of its greatness and its splen- 
dor. Political aff*airs and negotiations were now to 
be judged of by a new criterion. The foreign rela- 
tions were now the most important : and it was in con- 
ducting them, that the first statesmen were employ- 
ed. But their sphere of action was by no means lim- 
ited to Athens alone ; it was in some measure extend- 
ed over the whole of Greece. 

The object of these men was, and could not but be, 
to gain influence in a community, in which some ine- 
quality was produced by birth (as certain families, 
like those of the Eupatridae, were held superior to the 
rest, forming a sort of nobility, and even a political 
party,) jet in which birth had very little influence 
on future consequence. In Athens as in England, 
certain families or classes of families advocated cer- 
tain political ideas and principles, by means of which 
the democratic and aristocratic parties were formed, 
and kept up amidst a variety of changes. But the 
history of Athens still abounds in proofs, that the 
influence possessed over the people, by no means 
depended on birth. Here, as in the other similar 
states, there were two methods of gaining such influ- 

* See above, p. 151, kc. 



260 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

ence ; by deeds in war, and in peace by counsel. In 
some periods, military glory was the most esteemed ; 
in others, influence could be gained without it. In 
the early period, during the war with the Persians, 
the commanders of the armies were also states- 
men ; and how could it be otherwise ? But when 
the affairs of peace grew more important, a new 
course was opened to the man of genius. Yet it was 
long before the statesman as such could rise in Athens; 
the qualifications of a general long remained essential 
to his influence ; though the age finally came in 
which the former began to be of more consequence 
than the latter. We shall not therefore expose our- 
selves to the danger of being misapprehended, if we 
distinguish the three periods from one another ; the 
first, in which the statesman was subordinate to the gen- 
eral ; the next, in which the general was subordinate to 
the statesman ; and the third, in which the statesman 
acted independently of the general. Without any 
elaborate argument, the reader will immediately per- 
ceive, that here a certain relation exists to the increas- 
ing culture of the nation ; the mere military comman- 
der may rule a nation of barbarians ; but the states- 
man who has no pretensions to the qualifications of a 
general, finds no place except among a cultivated 
people. To mark more distinctly the limits of the 
three periods, we will call the first, that of Themis- 
tocles, the second that of Pericles, and the third that 
of Demosthenes. 

In the first age it is easy to perceive, that 
the qualities of a commander were of more impor- 
tance than those of a statesman. The state was to 
be saved on the field of battle ; and yet prudence 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 261 

was needed for its safety no less than courage. The- 
mistocles himself may be regarded as the represen- 
tative of this period. Destined by nature to become 
a demagogue rather than a general, he was still forced 
by the character and the spirit of his age tD build 
his political influence on his military fame. He owed 
his greatness to the Persian war and Salamis. But 
as a general, he is perhaps the most perfect model of 
a popular leader, who eifects less by commands than 
by persuasion and knowledge of men. His nation 
recognised in him the most prudent of its citizens ; 
and he understood his nation better than any one, 
not merely collectively, but individually. Hence 
proceeded his influence. ^^ He was most distinguish- 
ed/' says Thucydides,*- '^for the strength of his nat- 
ural powers ; and for this he is the most admirable of 
men. His understanding made him the most acute 
observer of every unexpected incident, without any 
previous or subsequent inquiries ; and gave him the 
most accurate foresight of the future. Whatever 
he undertook, he was able to execute ; and to form a 
true judgment on whatever was new to him. In 
doubtful matters, he could best tell, what was to be 
done or to be avoided ; and, in a word, he was the 
first for strength of natural powers, and for prompt- 
ness of decision." Happy the state which is favour- 
ed with such a citizen ! Even in great dangers it 
has no need to fear. He who considers the whole 
history of Themistocles, will admire him less for his 
deeds of heroism, than for the manner in which he 
preserved the courage of his nation, and in the decisive 
moment, brought them to the decisive measure, rather 

♦Thacyd. i. 138. 



262 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

to enter their ships and desert their native city, than 
subject themselves to the Persian yoke. Such things 
can be done only by a man of superior genius. It is 
true that his great talents were united to a character, 
which was not entirely free from selfishness.^ But 
the interests of his country were never sacrificed to 
his private advantage. And in judging of Themisto- 
cles, it must never be forgotten, that he was the first, 
who, without family, rose to eminence in Athens, and 
destroyed the power of the nobility.f This could 
never be forgiven him ; and it is not strange, that, 
persecuted as he was by Sparta, he should have been 
overwhelmed by his foreign and domestic enemies. But 
when he quitted ungrateful Athens, his object was al- 
ready accomplished. He had practically demonstrated 
that he understood the art which he vaunted, of making 
of a small state a large one. The reception with which 
he met in Persia, does no less honour to him than to 
Artaxerxes ; and although it is doubtful whether he 
did not escape serving against his country by a volun- 
tary death, f it is certain that he did nothing which 
could sully his fame. 

If Themistocles shows how talents could rise in a 
state like Athens, Aristides is an example of the in- 
fluence of character. His influence and his share in 

♦See in particular the relation of the corruption of the Grecian generals 
by tlie Eubceans. Herod, viii. 5. 

t Plutarch, in Themistoc. Op. 1. p. 438. 

t " He died," says Thucydides, " of disease. Some say he died of poi- 
son, which he took because he could not perform all that he had promised 
the king." Thucyd. i. 138. Thucydides says nothing of the tradition, tliat he 
destroyed himself by drinking bulls blood. Plutarch. Op. i. p. 498. The 
story- seems therefore to have received additions ; Thucydides speaks so 
decisively, that he could hardly have doubted the natural death of Themif- 
tocles. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 263 

public business were grounded on the conviction of 
his lionesty and disinterestedness ; although he also 
needed the support of military glory. As early as at 
Marathon, he, as one of the ten generals, stood by the 
side of Miltiades : and had himself the magnanimity 
to yield to him the supreme command.* At Platseae, 
he was the leader of the Athenians ; and after the 
liberties of Greece had been rescued by this victory, 
and Athens had established its supremacy in the al- 
liance against Persia, he was appointed, at the request 
of the allies to superintend the general exchequer, 
and performed the most difficult office of fixing 
for each of them its proportion of the annual tribute.f 
Thus Athens owed to him not much less than to 
Themistocles, who had been his rival from youth. 
If political and moral principles rendered the union 
of the two impossible (nothing but the urgent neces- 
sities of the country effected it for a short time), it 
must not be forgotten, that Aristides, though probably 
of no opulent family,t belonged by his birth to the 
class of the Eupatridse. 

Cimon, the son of Miltiades, the third whom we 
should name in this first period, connects it, as it were, 
with the succeeding. He too was more of a general 
than a statesman. His policy had but one object, 
continual war against the Persians, as the means of 

♦Plutarch. Op. i. p. 489. 

t " Aristides,'" says Plutarch, " made inquiries respecting the territory and 
revenue of the several states ; and fixed accordingly the tribute of each state 
to general satisfaction. Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 635. But even before that time 
it was his character, which had gained for Athens the supremacy. For 
the allies desired a president like him ; and even invited hira to assume the 
supreme command. Plutarch, ii. p. 532. He was at that time general of (he 
Athenians with Cimon. 

*How uncertain this was, appears from Plutarch, iii. p. 478. 



264 CHAPTEU THIUTEENTH. 

preserving the unity of the Greeks. This he pursued 
through his whole life, from the battle of Salamis, (and 
he had been the first to give the example of deserting 
the city and entering the ships) ;* till shortly before 
the glorious peace which he had promoted, but did not 
live to see concluded.f He seems, therefore, to have 
taken no farther share in the internal affairs, than he 
was forced to do by his situation. For descended 
from a noble family, and a pupil of Aristides, pos- 
sessing the principles of his political instructer, he 
desired the favour of the people, only as the means 
of preserving his character as a military commander; 
and yet he did not escape the lot which had fallen to 
Themistocles and Aristides. But his military fame 
procured his speedy return ; and confirmed him, as it 
increased, in the possession of his place. It was by 
the means which Cimon used to preserve the favour 
of the people, that he held a place, as we have observ- 
ed, between the first and second period. His liberality 
was not confined to citizens alone ; even he began to 
attract attention by public improvements, made for 
the most part at his own expense. Themistocles had 
fortified the city and the Pirseeus ; and Cimon began 
to ornament them. With the Persian spoils he built 
a part of the walls of the citadel. J He caused the 
marshy ground at its side^ to be dried and paved ; 
he prepared an abode for Plato and his philosophy, 
by converting the barren field, whicli occupied the 
site of the Academy, into a lovely, well watered 

♦Plutarch. Op. iii. p. 181. 

IThc peace with the Persians, 449 B. C, at which time the Greeks pre- 
scribed tiie conditions, which Phitarch has preserved for us in a citation from 
the popular decree. Op. iii. p. 202. 

J Plutarch. Op. iii. p. 202. § Called «/ xtfivui. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 265 

grove ; and for the Athenians^ he made the market- 
place their most favourite place of resort, by planting 
it with plane-trees.* He was intimately acquainted 
with the artists of his time, especially with the painter 
Polygnotus ; to whose art and patriotism, the Atheni- 
ans were indebted for the paintings which decorated 
the most celebrated of their public halls. f 

Ciraon may therefore justly be styled the precur- 
sor of Pericles, w^hose name we use to designate the 
second period. The time was arrived, when the 
arts of peace were to flourish no less than those of 
war ; when almost every branch of the arts and of 
literature were to put forth their most beautiful and 
most imperishable blossoms. 

Under such circumstances^ and in a republic, of 
which no one could possess the direction without 
understanding the means of winning and preserving 
the respect and admiration of his fellow-citizens, it is 
obvious, that new qualities were necessary in the 
statesman, and new requisitions made of him. The 
reciprocal influence which exists between men of 
genius and their age, is perhaps one of the most 
interesting inquiries, for which history presents us the 
materials. When we survey the several periods in 
which, at a greater or less distance, the remarkable 
changes of individual nations, and even of a large 
part of mankind, have taken place, we shall always 
find in them individual men, who may in some meas- 
ure be regarded as the representatives of their age ; 
and who frequently and justly lend their names to it. 

♦Plutarch. 1. c. 

t Plutarch Op. ii. p. 178. Hence called the varicgaicd, ^axiU. It was 
a'ljoining to the forum. 

34 



266 CHAPTEll THIRTEENTH. 

They can in a certain degree rise above their age ; 
but they do not the less remain children of the time 
in which they live ; and a history of mankind, as con- 
tained in the history of these leading minds, would 
perhaps be the most faithful that can be given. He who 
has truly delineated Herrman and Csesar, or Gregory, 
or Luther, or Frederic, has sketched the chief traits 
of their respective ages. To be in advance of one's 
age, as is the usual mode of expression, means but to 
understand one's age correctly in all its bearings ; 
and to act on the principles which result from such 
knowledge. In this lies the secret of great men, that 
no one can betray them, because no one shares 
their penetration, or rather in many cases their pre- 
saging insight into the future. On hearing the age 
of Pericles mentioned, a crowd of glorious associations 
is called up ; he who becomes more profoundly ac- 
quainted with it, soon finds that no pure ideal of per- 
fection then existed. To behold the mere citizen of 
a republic, raising his nation, and by means of his 
nation all mankind, to a higher position, is a spectacle 
which history has never but once been able, under 
similar circumstances, to repeat, in Lorenzo the Mag- 
nificent. Enviable men, around whose brows the un- 
fading laurel twines its verdure ! If fame in succeed- 
ing generations, if the grateful remembrance of pos- 
terity is no vain felicity, who would not willingly 
exchange his claims for yours ? 

In his political course, Pericles was guided by a 
simple principle ; to be the first in his own city, 
whilst he secured to it the first place among cities. 
Its political preponderance depended on the preserva- 
tion of its supremacy over Greece ;* and this was to 

♦ Sec above, p. 151. 



STATESMEN AND OUATORS. 267 

be preserved, not by force alone ; but by every thing 
which, according to Grecian ideas, could render a city 
illustrious. Hence he felt himself the necessity 
of improving his mind more variously than had hither- 
to been common in Athens ; and he availed himself 
for that end of all the means which his age afforded 
him. He was the first statesman, who felt that a cer- 
tain degree of acquaintance with philosophy was 
requisite ; not in order to involve his mind in the 
intricacies of a system, but to exercise himself in 
thinking with freedom ; and he became the pupil of 
Anaxagoras.* If before no orators, except those 
appointed by the state, had spoken in the popular 
assemblies, he was the first, who came forward as a 
voluntary orator ;t and the study of eloquence was 
necessary for him, although he never made the 
duties of an active statesman subordinate to those of 
a public speaker. Whilst he ornamented Athens by 
those masterpieces of architecture and the arts of 
design, he was not the patron, but the personal friend 
of a Phidias and similar men ; and who does not 
know, that his intimacy with Aspasia, his friend, his 
mistress, and at last his wife, imparted to his mind 
that finer culture, which he would have looked for in 
rain among the women of Athens. But all this he 
made subservient to his public career. He desired to 
be altogether a statesman, and he was so. " There was 
in the whole city,'' says Plutarch,J " but one street 
in which he was ever seen ; the street, which led to 
the market-place and the council-house. He declined 

*In proof of this and the following account, consult Plutarch in the bi- 
ography of Pericles. Op. T. ii. 

t Plutarch makes a distinction between him and the orators appointed by 
the state ; 1. c. p. 601. See Petit, de Leg. Att. iii. 3. 

t Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 601. 



26S CHAPTEU THIRTEENTH. 

all invitations to banquets, and all gay assemblies and 
company. During the whole period of his adminis- 
tration, he never dined at the table of a friend ; he 
did but just make his appearance at the nuptials of 
his nephew Euryptolemus ; but immediately after the 
libation^ he arose. He did not always appear even 
in the popular assemblies ; but only when important 
business was to be transacted ; smaller concerns he 
entrusted to his friends and the orators. ^^ Thus 
Pericles exhibited a model of a statesman, such as 
Greece had never yet seen, and was not to see again. 
His history shows, that he became great amidst the 
collision of parties ; all of which he finally annihilated ; 
and we need not therefore be astonished, if the opin- 
ions of his contemporaries were not united in his favour. 
We learn of Plutarch,! how zealously the comic poets 
attacked him. But he has gained the voice of one 
man, whose authority surpasses that of all the rest, 
the voice of Thucydides. " So long as he presided 
over the state in peace,'^ says the historian,! " he 
did it with moderation ; the state was preserved 
in its integrity, and was even advanced under him 
to its highest degree of greatness. When the 
war broke out, he showed that he had made a just 
calculation of his strength. The first in dignity and 
prudence, he was superior to all suspicion of corrup- 
tion ; he therefore swayed the people almost at will ; 
he guided them, and was not guided by them ; for he 
did not speak according to their humour ; but often 

* That is, at the beginning of the repast. These little traits seem to me 
to designate the man, who never forgave himself any thing. What nobler 
object can be contemplated, thau a great statesman, who living entirely for 
his high calling, and living worthily of it, spares only moments for himself. 

X As e. g. Op. ii. p. 592. X Thucyd. ii. 66. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 269 

opposed them with dignity and even with vehemence. 
If they were inclined to do any thing unreasonably, 
he knew how to restrain them ; if they suffered their 
courage to sink without reason, he could renew 
their confidence. His administration was therefore 
nominally the government of the people, but in real- 
ity the government of the first man.'^ To a character 
described by such a master, no additions need be 
made ; but we cannot omit to observe, that Pericles, 
though so great as a statesman, was not unmindful of 
the fame of military command. In this the rule of his 
conduct seems to have been, great prudence, and to 
undertake nothing without the greatest probability of 
success ; and such was the confidence reposed in him, 
that, in the last fifteen years of his administration, 
he seems to have held the place of general without 
interruption.* 

While we render to Pericles the tribute of just 
admiration, we ought not forget that he was favoured 
by the circumstances of his times. A man like him is 
capable of effecting much when the state, of which he 
is the head, is flourishing, and the people itself is 
constantly unfolding talents and powers, of which he 
must .be able to take advantage. Pericles himself 
never could have played his part a second time ; 
how much less those who were his successors. Of 
these history has but one to mention, of whom we must 
take notice, because he belonged, in a certain sense, 
not merely to Athens, but to Greece ; we mean Alcib- 
iades. The age in which he appeared, was altogether 
warlike ; and of this he merits the blame. He need- 

♦ Namely, after his victory over his antagonist, the elder Thucydides, who 
was supported by the party of the Optimates. Plutarch. Op. ii. p. 626, 627. 



270 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

ed, therefore^ the qualifications of a general more than 
those of a statesman. Still it may be said with con- 
fidence, that even in better times he woiild not have 
become a Pericles, although he seemed destined by 
birth, talents, and fortune to play a similar part. Per- 
icles regarded, in every thing, first the state and then 
himself; Alcibiades, on the contrary, first himself and 
then the state. Is more needed to delineate his char- 
acter as a statesman ? Vanity was his leading trait. 
He is thus described by the same great historian, who 
has drawn for us the picture of Pericles. " Although 
Alcibiades,'^ says he,* '^ was distinguished among 
his fellow-citizens for his wealth and consequence, his 
desires were always greater than his fortune ; partic- 
ularly of keeping splendid equipages, and supporting 
other extravagances ; which contributed not a little to 
the downfall of the Athenians. '^ His history is so well 
known, that it is not necessary to establish these re- 
marks by any particular references ; his whole life 
from beginning to end is a confirmation of them. 

The men who have thus far been named, united, 
though in different degrees, the characters of the 
statesman and the general. By what means was such 
an entire separation of the two produced, as may be 
observed in the third period, which we have named 
from Demosthenes ? The name alone explains to us 
distinctly enough, that the reason is to be looked for 
in the dominion of eloquence ; but the question re- 
mains still to be answered. Why and from what causes 
did eloquence obtain so late its ascendancy in politics ? 
We do not read that Themistocles and Aristides 
were skilled in oratory as an art. It is certain, that 

♦Thucyd. vi. 15. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 271 

of all practical statesmen, Pericles was the first who 
deserved that praise ; although it is uncertain wheth- 
er he took advantage of the instructions which then 
began to be given by the teachers of eloquence.^ But 
though the orations of Pericles were artfully compos- 
ed, they cannot be called works of art in the same 
sense with those of Demosthenes and his contempora- 
ries. As Pericles left no writings, it must remain un- 
decided, whether he wrote out his speeches word for 
wor^. A circumstance, of which the memory is pre- 
served by Plutarch, appears to make this very uncer- 
tain. " He was accustomed,'' says the biographer,t 
" whenever he was to speak in public, previously to 
entreat the gods, that he might not utter, against 
his will, any word which should not belong to the 
subject." Does not this seem to show, that he was not 
accustomed to write his orations, and deliver them from 
memory, but that he rather left much to be filled up by 
the impulse of the moment. The speech which Thucyd- 
ides represents him to have delivered,! is the work of 
the historian ; but we can judge from that andjother 
similar discourses contained in the same author, of 
the character of public eloquence before and during 
the Peloponnesiaii war ; since they could not but 
be composed in the taste and after the manner of 
the times. But how do they differ in style from those 
of the age of Demosthenes! How much less can 
those orations, great as are their various merits, be 

♦ According to Plutarch, i. p. 594, the sophist Damon was his instruct- 
er ; but, as it appears, rather his political counsellor, than his regular instruc- 
ter in eloquence. He made use of the pretext, says Plutarch, of teaching 
him music. Gorgias of Leontium, who is commonly mentioned as begin- 
ning the class of sophists, can hardly have been his master. See the frag- 
ment from the Schol. ad Hermog. ap. Reisk. Or. Gr. viii. p. 195. 

t Plut. Op. ii. p. 604. X Thucyd. ii. 60. 



272 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

considered as classic models in the art of eloquence ! 
We find in them little or nothing of an artificial plan ; 
little of that rhetorical amplification, and those figures 
and artifices, by which the later orators produced 
an effect on their hearers. We justly admire in them 
the strength of many of their thoughts, and single 
expressions and passages. Rut they seem to prove be- 
yond a question, that the rhetorical style was not then 
formed at Athens. They have far more the character 
of martial addresses ; they bear the impress of an 
age, in which the orator in the popular assemblies 
was at the same time the commander in war.* 

And by what means did Grecian eloquence in 
public speaking gain that peculiar character, which 
it possessed in the age of Demosthenes ? The origin 
and progress of public speaking always depends ia a 
certain degree on external circumstances. It is not 
enough that the constitution leaves room for it ; for 
then it would have come to perfection in other Gre- 
cian cities, and in Athens at a much earlier period than 
it did. Neither can we assume the artificial dispo- 
sition of the parts of a discourse and the instruction 
given in rhetoric, as the standard by which to judge 
of the actual appearance of great political orators. 
External circumstances must also be such as to make 
the want of orators perceptible. And when can this 
take place in free republics, except in times — not 
of war, for there arms must decide ; but rather in 
times of impending dangers, which may yet be avert- 
ed by prudence and courageous resolutions ? In such 

*In the masterly sketch which is given by Cicero, in Bruto, cap. 7 — 13, 
of tho! succession of Greek orators, much iuslructiou on these subjects may 
be found. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 273 

times the public speaker is in his place ; he beholds 
the field of glory opened before him ; and if no other 
motive than patriotism should lead him to ascend 
the stage from which the people was addressed, 
where could his b^som be warmed by a nobler inspi- 
ration ? 

This was the case in Greece, and especially in Athens, 
during the age of Philip ; for it was Philip who called 
forth a Demosthenes. Every thing which was needed to 
produce such an orator, had already been prepared. 
The form of government had long since made public 
speaking customary, and had opened a place for its 
influence. Eloquence was no longer regarded as 
merely a gift of nature, but as the fruit of study ; and 
the orator spoke to a people, which was sufficiently 
well informed, to understand and estimate his merits. 
To this were added those external causes, the difficult 
relations of the times. Where could there have been 
a better field for great public speakers ? Where 
would their appearance have been more easily ac- 
counted for ? Where was it more natural, that the 
practical statesman should more and more apply him- 
self to the study of eloquence, and thus the third 
period distinguished by us be introduced, in which 
the mere orator, without the talents of a military com- 
mander, could direct the affairs of the state. 

But when we investigate the history of practical 
eloquence in Greece (for we speak of that, and not of 
the theory), we are soon led to remark, what deserves 
to be carefully considered ; that in this last period of 
time, political eloquence and that of the bar became 
much more closely connected than before. The men 
who in the earlier times had stood at the head of the 
35 



274 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

state, Pericles, Alcibiades, and the rest, did not make 
their way to eminence through the business of advo- 
cates. Though in individual cases, as Pericles in that 
of Cimon,* they appeared as accusers in public trials, 
they never made a profession of pleading in the courts 
of justice, as did the orators of the age of Demosthe- 
nes. This gives rise to an important question in the 
history of practical politics no less than of oratory ; 
When did the advocates in Greece become states- 
men ; and by what means did they become so ? 

If I do not err, it is not difficult to prove, that 
during, and by means of the Peloponnesian war, the 
labours of the advocate and the statesman first came 
to be united. The state trials, as is apparent from 
our remarks in a preceding chapter respecting the 
judicial institutions, produced this result. But these 
began to be numerous during and immediately after 
that war ; and they could not have become very 
frequent, though individual ones occurred, before the 
spirit of faction, which supported them, had taken 
root too deeply to be extirpated. Of the orators 
with whom we are acquainted, Antiphon is the earli- 
est who must here be mentioned. The sketch drawn 
of him by Thucydides, represents a man, who, prop- 
erly an advocate, was drawn into public affairs against 
his inclination 5 and at last was obliged to defend 
his life for it.f Of his contemporaries, Andocides and 
Lysias, the first would probably have long played a 
conspicuous part in politics but for his restless spirit 
and his want of morals. J His rival Lysias, to judge 

* rintarcb. Op. i. p. GIO. And even then, as the writer remarks, he was 
rather apparently thau really an accuser. 
i Thucyd. viii. 68. 
\ Hiiuptmann de Andocidc, ap. Rcisk, vol. viii. p. 535. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 375 

from those of his orations which are still extant, was 
entirely an advocate ; but these were chiefly deliver- 
ed on such matters, as were considered at Athens to 
belong to public questions at law ; and the eloquence 
of the bar naturally rose to a higher degree of consid- 
eration, as trials not only were multiplied, but also 
increased in importance. In this manner, by the 
multitude of public processes, the path was opened to 
the advocates to a share in the business of the state ; 
and the ideas of orator and statesman became insepara- 
ble. This is nowhere more distinctly perceived, than in 
the writings of Isocrates, which are so often instruc- 
tive on these subjects. He, who was only a teacher of 
eloquence (for he was conscious of being too timid to 
speak in public), esteemed himself no less a teacher 
of political science ; and as he never delivered dis- 
courses concerning public affairs, he wrote respecting 
them.* Several of his essays are of the class which 
we call memorials, directed by him to rulers and 
kings ; although his friends had warned him, how 
dangerous this kind of writing might prove for him.f 
They produced no greater effect than such writings 
commonly do, where they are not supported by per- 
sonal connexions ; but no one will deny, that his 
instructions contributed much towards the education 
of many orators and statesmen.f 

Nothing would be more superfluous, than the 
desire of becoming the eulogist of that master in his 
art, whom the united voice of so many centuries has 
declared to be the first ; and whose worth the only 

♦See in particular the introduction to the Panathenaicus. Op. p. 234, etc. 
t Orat. ad Philip. Op. p. 85. 

X Cic. Brut. c. 8. Isocrates, cujus domus cunctai Griccia; quasi ludus qui- 
dam patuit, atque officina dicendi ; magnus orator ct perfectus magisier. 



276 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

rival whom antiquity placed by his side, has describ- 
ed in a manner at once exact, and equally honourable 
to both.* We would not here speak of Demosthenes 
the orator, but of Demosthenes the statesman ; and of 
him only as far as the man, the orator, and the states- 
man were most intimately connected in him. His 
political principles came from the depths of his soul ; 
he remained true to his feelings and his convictions, 
amidst all changes of circumstances and all threatening 
dangers. Hence he was the most powerful of orators ; 
because with him there was no surrender of his con- 
victions, no partial compromise, in a word, no trace of 
weakness. This is the real essence of his art ; every 
thing else was but secondary. And in this how much 
does he rise above Cicero ! And yet who ever suf- 
fered more severely than he for his greatness ? Of all 
political characters, Demosthenes is the most sublime 
and purestt tragic character, with which history is 
acquainted. When, still trembling with the vehement 
force of his language, we read his life in Plutarch ; 
when we transfer ourselves into his times and his 
situation ; we are carried away by a deeper interest, 
than can be excited by any hero of the epic muse 
or of tragedy. From his first appearance till the 
moment when he swallows poison in the temple, we 
see him contending against destiny, which seems to 
mock him with malignant cruelty. It throws him to 
the ground, but never subdues him. W^hat a current 

* Cicero in Bruto, c. 9. 

t He was naturally calumniated be} oml any other. And yet ihey could bring 
no charge against him but his silence in the affair of Harpalus (see below), and 
that he was in Persian pay ; which was the common ciiarge against all who 
did not side with Philip. Could they have proved it, is it probable that they 
weuld have kept back their proofs i? 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 277 

of emotions must have poured through his manly 
breast amidst this interchange of reviving and expir- 
ing hopes. How natural was it, that the lines of 
melancholy* and of indignation such as we yet behold 
in his bust,t should have been imprinted on his severe 
countenance ! Hardly had he passed the years of 
youth, when he appeared in his own behalf as accuser 
of his faithless guardians ; J from whom, however, he was 
able to rescue only a small part of his patrimony.^ 
In his next attempts, insulted by the multitude, though 
encouraged by a few who anticipated his future 
greatness, he supported an obstinate contest with him- 
self, till he gained the victory over his own nature. || 
He now appeared once more as an accuser in public 
prosecutions,1I before he ventured to speak on the 
affairs of the state. But in the very first of his pub- 
lic speeches** we see the independent statesman, who 
not dazzled by a splendid project, opposes a vast 
undertaking. When Philip soon after displayed his de- 
signs against Greece by his interference in the Phocian 

♦His adversary, when he insultingly said that Demosthenes " could weep 
more easily than other men could laugh," jEschin. in Ctesiph. Op. iii, p. 597. 
Reisk. uttered a deeper truth than he himself was aware of. 

t Visconti, Iconographie, PI. xxx. 

t In the orations against Aphobus, Op. ii. Reisk. 

§ Plutarch, iv. p. 700. 

Ij Many stories came subsequently to be told about it ; but the story of 
the pebble-stones which he put in his mouth, rests on the testimony of De- 
metrius Phalereus, who had heard it from the orator himself. Plut. iv. p. 
709. The same is true of various other particulars. 

M Against Androtion, Timocrates, and others. He was then 27 years old. 
Plut. p. 717. 

** In the oration of the ffuftf^o^iai, or classes, pronounced in the year 354 B. C. 
He opposed an oflensive war against the Persians, for which the Athenians 
were ready, in the hope of effecting a general union of the Greeks. Here we al- 
ready find the maxim, which formed the theme of his subsequent orations, 
as of the speeches of Chatham ; To stand on ones own feel. 



278 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

war, he for the first time appeared against that mon- 
arch in his first Philippic oration.* From this period 
he had found the great business of his life. Some- 
times as counsellor, sometimes as accuser, sometimes 
as ambassador, he protected the independence of his 
country against the Macedonian policy. Splendid 
success seemed at first to reward his exertions. He 
had already won a number of states for Athens ;t 
when Philip invaded Greece, he had already succeed- 
ed not only in gaining over the Thebans, but in 
kindling their enthusiasm ;J when the day of Chsero- 
nea dashed his hopes to the earth.§ But he cour- 
ageously declares in the assembly of the people, that 
he still does not repent of the counsels which he had 
given. IT An unexpected incident changes the whole 
aspect of things. Philip falls the victim of assassina- 
tion ;|| and a youth, who as yet is but little known, 
is his successor. Immediately Demosthenes institutes 
a second alliance of the Greeks ; but Alexander sud- 
denly appears before Thebes ; the terrible vengeance 
which he here takes, instantly destroys the league ; 
Demosthenes, Lycurgus, and several of their support- 
ers, are required to be delivered up ; but Demades 
is at that time able to settle the difficulty and 
to appease the king.*"* His strength was therefore 
enfeebled, as Alexander departed for Asia ; he 
beo;ins to raise his head once more, when Sparta 

* Pronounced in the year 352. 

t Acliaia, CorintI), Mcgara, and others. Pint. iv. p. 720. 

t Plut. iv. p. 722. A. leading passage respecting his political activity. 

§ In the year 338 B. C. 

H Pint. iv. p. 72G. His enemies even then endeavoured to attack him, 
hut in vain. The people assigned to him Ihe funeral oration on those who 
fell at ChaM'onoa ; and by this did honour to him and to themselves. 

!l In the year 33G B. C. ♦♦Plutarch, iv. p. 731. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 279 

attempts to throw off the yoke ;* but under Antipater 
he is overpowered. Yet it was about this very time 
that by the most celebrated of his discourses he gain- 
ed the victory over the most eloquent of his adversa- 
ries ; and ^schines was forced to depart from Athens.f 
But this seems only to have the more embittered his 
enemies^ the leaders of the Macedonian party ; and 
they soon found an opportunity of preparing his 
downfall. When Harpalus, a fugitive from the army 
of Alexander, came with his treasures to Athens, and 
the question arose, whether he could be permitted to 
remain there, Demosthenes was accused of having 
been corrupted by his money, at least to be silent, f 
This was suflicient to procure the imposition of a fine ;^ 
and as this was not paid, he was thrown into prison. 
From thence he succeeded in escaping ; but to tlie 
man who lived only for his country, exile was no less 
an evil than imprisonment. He resided for the most 
part in ^gina and at Troezen, from whence he looked 
with moist eyes towards the neighbouring Attica. || 
Suddenly and unexpectedly a new ray of light broke 
through the clouds. Tidings were brought, that 
Alexander was dead.1[ The moment of deliverance 
seemed at hand ; the excitement pervaded every 
Grecian state ; the ambassadors of the Athenians 
passed through the cities ; Demosthenes joined him- 
self to the number, and exerted all his eloquence and 
power to unite them against Macedonia.*^- In re- 

♦ In the year 330 B. C. 

+ The oration for the Crown. The trial took place in the year 330 B. i\ 

t Plutarch, iv. p. 733. 1 leave it to the reader to form an opinion respect- 
ing the anecdotes which are there related. His accuser was Dinarchu«, 
whose calumnious oration we still possess. Or. Gr. vol. iv. Reisk. 

§ Of 50 talents ; (not far from 45000 dollars) ; Plut. iv. p. 735. 

(1 Plut. iv. 736. f In the year 323. *♦ Plut. iv. p. 737 



280 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

quital for such services, the people decreed his return; 
and years of sufferings were at last followed by a day 
of exalted compensation. A galley was sent to ^Egina 
to bring back the advocate of liberty. All Athens 
was in motion ; no magistrate, no priest remain- 
ed in the city, when it was reported that Demosthe- 
nes was advancing from the Piiaeeus.* Overpowered 
by his feelings, he extended his arms and declared 
himself happier than Alcibiades ;t for his countrymen 
had recalled him, not by compulsion, but from choice. 
It was a momentary glimpse of the sun, w^hich still 
darker clouds were soon to conceal. Antipater and 
Craterus were victorious ; and with them the Mace- 
donian party in Athens ; Demosthenes and his friends 
w^ere numbered among the accused, and at the insti- 
gation of Demades were condemned to die. They had 
already withdrawn in secret from the city ; but where 
could they find a place of refuge ? Hyperides with 
two others took refuge in ^gina in the temple of 
Ajax. In vain ! they were torn away, dragged before 
Antipater, and executed. Demosthenes had escaped 
to the island Calauria in the vicinity of Trcezen ; and 
took refuge in the temple of Neptune. J It was to no 
purpose, that Archias, the satellite of Antipater, urged 
him to surrender himself under promise of pardon. 
He pretended he wished to write something ; bit the 
quill, and swallowed the poison contained in it. He 
then veiled himself, reclining his head backwards, till 
he felt the operation of the poison. ^' O Neptune !'' 
he exclaimed, " they have defiled thy temple ; but 
honouring thee, I will leave it while yet living." But 

♦ Plut. iv. [). 738. t Who saw a similar day of return. 

\ See, for the following, Plut. iv. p. 741. 



STATESMEN AND ORATORS. 281 

he sank before the altar,* and a sudden death sep- 
arated him from a workl, which, after the fall of his 
country, contained no happiness for him. Where shall 
we find a character of more grandeur and purity than 
that of Demosthenes ? 

It seemed by no means superfluous to exhibit a 
picture of Grecian statesmen during that period, by 
sketching the history of him, who holds the first rank 
among them. We learn from it, that the sphere of action 
of such men, though they are called orators, extended 
far beyond their orations. From these, it is true, we 
chiefly derive our knowledge of them. But how dif- 
ferently would Demosthenes appear to us, if we were 
particularly acquainted with the details of his political 
career.f How much must have been needed to eff'ect 
such an alliance, as he was repeatedly able to form ? 
W^hat journeys, what connexions, what skill in winning 
persons of influence, and in managing mankind ? 

And what were the means which these statesmen 
of antiquity could command, when we compare them 
with those of modern times ? They had no orders 
from the cabinet to execute. They had not the dis- 
posal of the wealth of nations ; they could not obtain 
by force, what others would not voluntarily yield. 
Even the comparison which might be made between 
them and the British statesmen, is true only as far 
as the latter also stood in need of eloquence to con- 
firm their influence. But the other means which 

* What a subject for the art of sculpture ! and yet one, which has never, 
to my knowledge, been made use of. The artist would only need to draw 
after Plutarch. 

t If the voice of history on this subject were not loud enough, this might 
be inferred from the calumnies of Dinarchus. It is not inconsistent with it, 
that Demosthenes may sometimes, in his negotiations, have been too much 
carried away by the liveliness of his feelings. 

36 



282 CHAPTER THIRTEENTH. 

Pitt could employ to form a party, were not possessed 
by Demosthenes. He had no presents to offer, no 
places to give away, no ribbons and decorations to 
promise. On the contrary, he was opposed by men, 
who could control every thing by which covetousness 
or ambition can be tempted. What could he oppose 
to them, but his talents, his activity, and his courage ? 
Provided with no other arms, he supported the con- 
test against the superiority of foreign strength, and 
the still more dangerous contest with the corruptions 
of his own nation. It v^as his high calling, to be the 
pillar of a sinking state. Thirty years he remained 
true to it, and he did not yield till he was buried 
beneath it ruins. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 283 



CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

THE SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 

The relation which exists between science and 
political institutions, is of a twofold nature. It may 
be asked, What has the state done for the promotion 
of the sciences ? And also, What influence in return 
have the sciences, or any particular branches of them, 
exerted on the state? Both questions deserve to be 
considered in the case of the Greeks. 

Where the government is actively engaged in 
promoting the sciences, their previous existence may 
be inferred. To create them neither is, nor can be 
a concern of the state. Even where they are begin- 
ning to flourish, it cannot at once be expected, that 
they should receive public support ; because they do 
not stand in immediate relation with the general gov- 
ernment. They are the fruit of the investigations of 
individual eminent men ; who have a right to expect 
nothing, but that no hindrances should be laid in the 
way of their inquiries and labours. Such was the 
situation of things in the Grecian states, at the time 
when scientific pursuits began to gain life. What 
inducement could the state have had to interfere at 
once for their encouragement. In Greece the motive 
which was of influence in the East, did not exist. 
Religion had no secret doctrines. She required no 
institutions for their dissemination. There certainly 
were public schools for instruction in reading, writing, 



284 CHAPTEU FOURTEENTH. 

and ill music (poetry and song) ; over which teachers 
were appointed in all the principal cities ; and the 
laws provided that no abuses dangerous to youth 
should find entrance to them.* But in most of them 
the masters were probably not paid by the state ;! 
they received a compensation from their pupils. The 
same is true of the more advanced instruction deliver- 
ed by the sophists ; some of whom amassed wealth 
from their occupation ; yet not at the expense of the 
state, but of their pupils. 

Thus it appears, that excepting the gymnasia, 
which were destined for bodily exercises, and of which 
the support was one of the duties incumbent on citi- 
zens,J no higher institutions for instruction existed 
previous to the Macedonian age. But when the mass 
of scientific knowledge had accumulated ; when it 
was felt how valuable that knowledge was to the state ; 
when the monarchical constitutions were introduced 
after the age of Alexander; provision was made for 
such institutions ; the museum of Alexandria and that 
of Pergamus were established ; and it still remains 
for a more thorough investigation to decide, whether 
the state remained wholly inactive, while the schools of 
philosophy and of rhetoric were forming. Shall the Gre- 
cian republics, then, still continue to be cited ; as has 
been done by the celebrated founder of a new school of 

♦ See the laws of Solon on this point. Petit. Leg. Alt. L. ii. Tit. iv. p. 239. 

tl limit the proposition on purpose, for it would be altogether false to 
assert generally, tiiat this never took place. Charonidas in his laws at Cala- 
na, which were afterwards adopted in Thuriuni, had expressly enacted, that 
the schoolmasters should be paid by the state ; Diod. xii. p. 80. as an aflFair 
of the utmost importance. Since the schools were so carefully watched 
over, may not the same have taken place in many other cities ? This how- 
ever is true only of the inferior or popular schools. 

t The yv/tyufici^x*' i scc Petit, iii. Tit. iv. p. 355. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 285 

political economy, in proof that the state should leave 
the sciences to provide for themselves ? Should it not 
rather encourage and provide for them in countries, 
where the culture of most of them is in several relations 
necessary for its welfare ? where the teacher of re- 
ligion as well as the judge, where the physician as well 
as the statesman, stands in need of various kinds of 
knowledge ? 

But when that assertion is understood as implying 
that the state among the Greeks was wholly uncon- 
cerned about intellectual culture and improvement, 
but left these subjects to themselves, a monstrous 
error lies at the bottom of it. No states in the whole 
course of history have proportionally done more for 
them than the Grecian ; but they did it in a different 
manner from the moderns. We measure intellectual 
culture by the state of science ; for which our modern 
states, as is well known, have at times done so much 
and so little ; the Greeks, on the contrary, were 
accustomed to find their standard in the arts. The 
state among the Greeks did little for the sciences, 
because it did every thing for the arts. The latter 
as we shall more fully explain hereafter, were of more 
immediate importance to it than the former ; while 
the reverse is true among the moderns. How then can 
we be astonished that the arts were the chief object of 
interest to the Grecian states ? 

The answer to the other question embraces a 
wider field : Among the Greeks, what consequences 
had the sciences for the state ? And here we would 
in the first place treat of philosophy, and then annex 
to the inquiry on that subject; some remarks respect- 
ing history. 



286 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

After so many acute and copious explanations of 
the Grecian philosophy, no one will here expect a 
new analysis of their systems. It is our object to 
show how the connexion between philosophy and 
politics originated among the Greeks, how it was 
continued and increased, and what was its influence ? 

The philosophy of the Greeks, as of other nations, 
began with inquiries into the origin of things. The 
opinions of the Ionian school respecting it are gener- 
ally known. If, as a modern historical critic has 
made to appear very probable,* they were at first 
connected with religious representations, as we find 
them in the Orphic precepts, they did not long remain 
thus united, for they were stript of their mythological 
garb ; and in this manner the philosophy of the 
Greeks gained its independence, while in the East it 
always remained connected with religion. But it is 
nowhere mentioned, that the philosophers who be- 
longed to this school, had made the state the object 
of their inquiries ; yet if we consider Anaxagoras as 
of the number, his connexion with Pericles, and the 
influence which by means of his instructions he exer- 
cised over that statesman, are remarkable. But, as 
we observed in a former chapter, no instruction in a 
philosophic system was given ; but in the application 
of some propositions in natural philosophy to practical 
politics. Plutarch has preserved for us the true 
object. '^ He freed Pericles," says the biographer,! 
^^ from that supersition, which proceeds from false 
judgments respecting auguries and prodigies, by 
explaining to him their natural causes." He who bears 

♦ Boutcrweck. Commentatio de primis philosophorumGrsecorum dccrelis 
physicis. See Gott. Gel. Anzeig. 1812. St. 11. 

* Plut. i. p. 597. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 287 

in mind the great influence exercised by this belief or 
superstition on the undertakings of the statesmen of 
antiquity, will not mistake the importance of such 
instruction ; and he will also understand the conse- 
quences, which could follow this diminution of respect 
for the popular religion in the eyes of the multitude. 
The persecution of Anaxagoras for denying the gods, 
and exercising his reason respecting celestial things,* 
could not be averted by Pericles himself; who was 
obliged to consent to the banishment of the philoso- 
pher. And this was the commencement of the con- 
test between philosophy and the popular religion ; a 
contest, which was afterwards repeatedly renewed, 
and was attended by further consequences, that we 
must not omit to observe. 

Pythagoras, though somewhat younger than the 
founder of the Ionian school, was himself an Ionian 
of the island of Samos. Nevertheless he found his 
sphere of action not there, but in Croton in Lower 
Italy. Of no one of the Grecian sages is the history 
so involved in the obscurities of tradition and the 
marvellous ; and yet no other became of such political 
importance. t If we desire to estimate the influ- 
ence of his philosophy on the state, we must by all 
means distinguish the influence of the Pythagorean 

♦ Plutarch, i. p. 654, 655. 

t We cannot exactly fix the year of tbe birth or of the death of Pythago- 
ras. It is most probable that he came to Croton about the year 540; he was 
certainly there at the period of the destruction of Sybaris, in the year 510 B. 
C. His society which existed at that time, was afterwards, about the year 
500 B. C.^ dissolved by Cylon and his faction. Little remains to be added to 
the critical inquiries of Meiners respecting the PytFiagorean Philosophy. It 
is chiefly these inquiries which confer a value on Meiners' History of the 
Sciences in Greece and Rome. Agreeably to the spirit of our work, we 
would only offer our view of th« jubject to the consideration of olher«. 



288 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

league on the cities of Magna Graecia, from the influ- 
ence of his philosophy on Greece itself^ after that 
league had come to an end. 

If we subject to a critical investigation, that which 
antiquity relates in a credible manner of his society 
and their objects, we observe a phenomenon, which is 
in many respects without a parallel. And yet I 
believe this is most intimately connected with the 
aristocratic and democratic factions which may be 
remarked so frequently in the Grecian states. Pythag- 
oras had deserted Saraos, to escape from the govern- 
ment of Polycrates ; and whatever scruples may be 
raised respecting his other journies, no one has denied 
his residence in Egypt. At the time when he 
visited this country, probably under Amasis, who 
made it accessible to the Greeks, the throne of the 
Pharaohs was still standing, and the influence of the 
cast of priests unimpaired. From them it is certain 
that he adopted much, both in respect to dress and 
manner of living ; and could it have escaped a man of 
his penetration, how much can be effected in a state 
by the union of men of influence ; although he must 
have seen, that a cast of priests could never thrive 
among the Greeks ? According to all which we hear 
respecting him, he was master of the art of exciting, not 
attention only, but enthusiasm. His dignity, his dress, 
the purity of his morals, his eloquence, were of such a 
kind, that men were inclined to exalt him above the 
class of common mortals.* A comparison of the his- 
tory of the several cities in Magna Grsecia, at the 
time of his appearing in them, distinctly shows, that 

•See the passages in proof of this in Meiners, B.i. S. 405, kc. They are 
chiefly taken fioin Aristoxenus, one of the most credible witnesses. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 289 

the government^ in the most flourishing of them^ was 
possessed by the higher class. Against this order, a 
popular party began about this time to be formed ; and 
the controversies of the two soon occasioned the des- 
truction of Sybaris.* Pythagoras, who was any thing 
rather a friend to the mob, joined the party of the 
higher order ; which in its turn found its support in 
his splendid talents. But this was the period in which 
luxury had risen in those cities, and especially in the 
rich families, to a degree never before known. It 
could not escape a man like him, that this corruption 
of manners must be followed by the downfall of his 
party ; and hence it was natural for him to resolve to 
found his political reform on a moral one.f Being 
intimately connected with the higher order, he united 
them in a narrower circle ; and necessity soon occa- 
sioned a distinction to be made between the class of 
those who were on probation, and those who were 
already admitted. J Self-government was the grand 
object of his moral reform. For this end he found it 
necessary to prescribe a certain manner of life, 
which was distinguished by a most cleanly but 
not luxurious clothing, a regular diet, a methodi- 
cal division of time, part of which was to be appro- 
priated to one's self and part to the state. And this 
may have contributed not a little to the formation of 

♦The party of the nobleS;500 in number, fled after their banishment from 
thence to Croton, and prayed for protection ; which tliey received princi- 
pally by the advice of Pythagoras. Diod. xii. p. 77. Wechel. The passages 
which prove that those cities had aristocjatical constitutions, way be found 
in Meineis, i. 396. 

t See the passages in evidence of this, and the incredible sensation pro- 
duced by hira, in Meiners, i. p. 396. 

J Therefore in Ilcrod. ii. 81. the Pythagorean sect is enumerated among 
the mysteries. 

37 



290 CIIArTER FOURTEENTH. 

those firm friendships, without which not much influ- 
ence on public affairs can be exercised in republics. 
His acquaintance with speculative and mathematical 
science need not here be mentioned, since it is alto- 
gether unknown to us, how far he applied it to 
political purposes. 

When we consider, that his society, of which he 
himself formed the central point, but which had its 
branches in the other cities of Magna Grsecia, and 
according to some accounts even in Carthage and 
Cyrene, continued to exist for at least thirty years, 
we can realize, that it may have borne not only 
blossoms, but fruits. His disciples came by degrees 
to fill the most important posts, not only in Croton, 
but also in the other Grecian cities ; and yet at the 
time of the destruction of Sybaris, the' sect must have 
existed in its full force ; since Pythagoras advised 
the reception of the banished ;^ and in the war 
against Sybaris, one of his most distinguished scholars, 
the wrestler Milo,t held the supreme command. But 
when a secret society pursues politicalends, it naturally 
follows, that an opposing party increases in the same 
degree in which the preponderating influence of such 
a society becomes more felt.J But in this case, the 
opposition existed already in the popular party. ^ It 

♦Diod. 1. c. 

t Violent bodily exercises lormcd a part of the discipline of Pythagoras. 
Six times in one Olympiad, prizes at Olympia were gained in those days by 
inhabitants of Croton. INIust not this too have contributed to increase the 
fame of Pythagoras ? 

X Need 1 cite the example of the Illuminati ? 

§ Cylon,the author of that commotion, is described as the leader of the 
democratic party ; and this is proved by the anarchy whiqh ensued after the 
catastrophe, and continued till order was restored by the mother cities in 
Achaia. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 291 

therefore only needed a daring leader, like Cylon, to 
scatter the society by violence ; the assembly was 
surprised, and most of them cut down, while a few only, 
and with them their master, escaped. After such a vic- 
tory of the adverse faction, the expulsion of the rest of 
the Pythagoreans who remained alive, from their 
offices, was a natural consequence ; and the political 
importance of the society was at an end. It was 
never able to raise its head again. 

With the political doctrines of the Pythagoreans, 
we are acquainted only from later writers, who are 
yet worthy of credit, and of whom accounts and frag- 
ments have been preserved, especially in the collec- 
tions of StobsBus. '' They regarded anarchy,^' says 
Aristoxenus,^ " as the greatest evil ; because man 
cannot exist without social order. They held that 
every thing depended on the relation between the 
governing and the governed ; that the former should 
be not only prudent, but mild ; and that the latter 
should not only obey, but love their magistrates ; that 
it was necessary to grow accustomed even in boyhood 
to regard order and harmony as beautiful and useful, 
disorder and confusion as hateful and injurious.'^ 
From the fragments of the writings of the early Py- 
thagoreans, as of Archytas, Diotogenes, and Hippo* 
damusjf we perceive that they were not blindly 
attached to a single form of government ; but only 
insisted that there should be no unlawful tyranny. 

* Stob. Serm. xli. p. 243. This evidence is taken either from Aristoxe- 
nus, or from Aristotle himself, and therefore, according to Miners, not to be 
rejected. 

t Meiners considers all these writings as not genuine. His reasoning 
however does not apply to the political fragments, which are to be found in 
cap. xli. and xliii. It is remarkable that he says almost nothing of the polit- 
ical doctrines of Pythagoras. 



292 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

Where a royal government existed, kings should be 
subject to the laws, and act only as the chief magis- 
trates.* They regarded a mixed constitution as the 
best ; and although they were far from desiring un- 
limited democracies, they desired quite as little 
unlimited aristocracies : but even where the adminis- 
tration resided principally in the hands of the upper 
class, they reserved a share of it for the people.f 

Though the political agency of the society termi- 
nated with its dissolution, the Pythagorean lessons by 
no means became extinct. They were extended 
through Greece with the writings of the Pythagoreans, 
who were paid with high prices : but in that country 
they gained political importance, only so far as 
they contributed to the education of individual distin- 
guished men. Of these, we need only to mention 
Epaminondas. 

In Greece, the sophists are generally considered 
to have been the first, who applied philosophy to 
political science, which then became a subject of sci- 
entifir instruction. Yet Plutarch, in a remarkable 
passage. i speaks of a political school which had been 
kept up in Athens, from the time of Solon. " The- 
mistocles,^' says he, *^ could not have been a pupil of 
Anaxagoras, as some contend. He was a disciple of 
Mnesiphilus, who was neither an orator, nor one of 
the physical philosophers ;«^ but who was employed 
on that kind of wisdom, which consists in political 
skill and practical sagacity, and which from the time 
of Solon, had been preserved as in a school.'' That a 

■ See in particular the fragments of Archytas. Serm. xViv. p. 314. 
t Compare the fragment of Diotogenes, cap. xlvi. p. 329. 
^n Thcmistocles, Op. i. p. 440. 
§ The Ioni.-\n and Eleatic sages. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 293 

man like Solon should have gathered around himself 
a circle which he made acquainted with his thoughts 
and maxims, was not only natural, but was necessary 
for the preservation of his code of laws ; and it was 
not less natural that his younger friends should in turn 
deliver to theirs the principles of that venerable sage. 
But the words of the biographer himself, show clearly 
enough, that no methodical instruction was given ; 
but principles of practical wisdom, consisting in max- 
ims for the conducting of public affairs, and drawn 
from experience ; maxims of which the few remaining 
poetical fragments of the lawgiver contain so valuable 
a store. 

From this practical direction, the Grecian philos- 
ophers after the times of Pythagoras entirely with- 
drew; and devoted themselves altogether to meta- 
physical speculations. They were employed in 
inquiries respecting the elements, and the nature of 
things ; and came necessarily upon the question, 
which has so often been repeated, and which never 
can be answered, respecting the truth or falsehood 
of the perceptions of our senses. We know with what 
zeal these inquiries were made in the Eleatic school. 
They employed in a great measure Xenophanes, Par- 
menides, Heraclitus, Empedocles, and others. If 
therefore we read of individuals among these men, 
that they attained to political eminence,* their phi- 
losophy was connected with their political station only 
so far as they thus became conspicuous ; and because 
wise men were selected for counsellors. In one point a 
nearer relation existed between their philosophy and 

♦ As Empedocles in Agrigentum ; who is said to have refused the diadem, 
and confirmed the liberties of the people. Diog. LaOrt. viii. ii. 9. 



294 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

the state; we mean in their diminishing or attempt- 
ing to diminish the respect for the popular religion. 
In a country where the religion was a poetical one, 
and where philosophy had become entirely distinct 
from religion, the spirit of free, unlimited speculation, 
on its awakening, could not but scrutinize the popular 
faith, and soon detect its weaknesses. This we hear 
was done by Xenophanes, who with equal boldness 
used bitter expressions respecting the Gods and the 
epic poets who have invented about the gods such 
indecent fables.* This contradiction between philos- 
ophy and the popular religion, is on the one side the 
most certain proof of the independence of the former ; 
but it was also the point, in which the state and philos- 
ophy came in contact, not without danger to the 
state, and if not to philosophy itself, yet to the phi- 
losophers. 

Yet however far the speculations of those reason- 
ers were removed from the state and from politics, the 
spirit of the times and necessity created many points 
of contact ; which serve to explain the appearance of 
the sophists, and the part which they acted. With- 
out regarding their doctrines, we may find their 
external character designated by the circumstance, 
that they were the first who gave instruction for pay. 
This presupposes that the want of scientific instruc- 
tion began to be felt ; and this again implies, that 
independent of such instruction, the nation had made 
progress in intellectual culture. In other words ; he 
who desired to become distinguished in the state, felt 
the necessity of improving his tnind by instruction. 
He was obliged to learn to speak, and therefore to 
think ; and exercises in these two things constituted 

♦Diog. LnCrt. ix. ii. 3. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 295 

the whole instruction of the sophists. But it was of 
great importance, that the minds of men had been 
employed and continued to be employed so much with 
those metaphysical questions, which, as they from 
their very nature can never be answered with certain- 
ty, are well suited for disputation, and admit so 
various answers. 

From the copious inquiries which have been made 
respecting the sophists by modern writers of the 
history of philosophy,* and from the preceding 
remarks, it is sufficiently evident that they were a 
fruit of the age. It is worthy of remark, that the most 
celebrated of them came from the most various parts 
of the Grecian world ; Gorgias, who begins the series 
from Leontium in Sicily ; Protagoras from Abdera 
on the coast of Thrace ; Hippias from Colophon in 
Asia Minor ; not to mention a multitude of those 
who were less famous. This is a remarkable proof, 
how generally, since the Persian wars, a literary 
spirit had begun to animate the nation. Most of 

♦Yet even after all that has here been done by Meiners, Tenneman, and 
«thers, many things remain obscuie ; for the explanation of which, the foun- 
dation must he laid in a more accurate chronology of the sophists. Even the 
sophists before the Macedonian times fof a later period we here make no men- 
tion) did not continue the same ; and we should do Gorgias and Protagoras 
great injustice, were we to place them in the same rank with those, against 
whom the aged Isocrates in his Panathenaicus, Op. p. 236, and De Sophistis, p. 
293, makes such bitter complaints. Gorgias, Protagoras, and Hippias, were 
commonly called the elder sophists ; of whom Gorgias is said to have come 
to Athens in the year 427 as ambassador, although this is not mentioned by 
Thucydides. But it is evident from Aristophanes, who brought his Clouds 
upon the stage, for the first time, 424 years B, C, that at that epoch, the 
sophis.ts had already been long established at Alliens. It appears that the 
great celebrity and wealth of the sophists commenced in the times of Gorgi- 
as and tlie following. In the Clouds, Socrates and his pupils are represented 
so far from being rich, as poor wretches, who do not know how they are to 
subsist from one day to another. 



296 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

those men, it is true, removed to Athens ; to which 
place Gorgias was sent as ambassador during the 
Peloponnesian war ; because this city, so long as it 
held the first rank, opened the widest and most profi- 
table theatre for their exertions ; but they also often 
travelled through the cities of Greece in the train of 
their pupils ; met with the kindest reception ; and 
were employed as counsellors in public affairs, and 
not unfrequently as ambassadors. They gave instruc- 
tion at a high price to all young men who joined 
tliem, in every branch of knowledge, deemed essential 
to their education. This undoubtedly occasioned 
that boasting of univeral knowledge^ which has been 
laid to their charge ; but it must also be remembered, 
that in those days the extent of the sciences was still 
very limited. 

The sophists at first embraced in their course of 
instruction, philosophy as well as rhetoric. But that 
which they called philosophy, was, as with the scho- 
lastic philosophers, the art of confounding an opponent 
by syllogisms and sophisms ; and the subjects about 
which they were most fond of speculating, were some 
of those metaphysical questions, respecting which we 
ought finally to learn, that we never can know any 
thing. This kind of reasoning, since disputation and 
speaking were taught, was very closely connected 
with rhetoric. Subsequently the sophists and rheto- 
ricians formed distinct classes ; but the different 
classes, which Isocrates distinguished in his old age,* 
could hardly have been so decidedly marked in his 
youth. 

*l80«rates, Op. p. 293, etc 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 297 

The precepts and the very name of the sophists 
became odious among the ancients ; and it would be 
in vain to attempt to free them entirely from the 
reproaches, which were cast on them by sages and by 
the comic writers. But yet they cannot be deprived 
of the glory of having made the higher class of their 
nation sensible of the necessity of a liberal education. 
They rose rapidly and extraordinarily, because they 
were deeply connected with the wants of the times. 
In states, where every thing was discussed orally, and 
where every thing was just beginning to bloom, the 
instructers in logic and rhetoric could not but be 
acceptable. But in two respects, they soon became 
injurious and even dangerous to the state ; by reduc- 
ing eloquence to the mere art of disputing, and by 
degrading or ridiculing the popular religion. 

The first seems to have been a very natural conse- 
quence of the condition of the sciences at that time. The 
more limited is the knowledge of men, the more bold are 
they in their assertions ; the less they know, the more 
they believe they do and can know. Man persuades 
himself of nothing more readily, than that he has 
arrived at the bounds of human knowledge. This 
belie'f creates in him a dogmatical spirit ; because he 
believes he can prove every thing. But where it is 
believed, that every thing can be proved, there natu- 
rally arises the art of proving the contrary proposi- 
tion ; and the art of disputing among the sophists 
degenerated to this. The art of confounding right 
and wrong, objected to them by the comic poets, may 
have had a very injurious influence on social life ; but 
agreater evil resulting from it was the destroying of 
a nice sense of truth ; for even truth itself becomes 
38 



298 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

contemptible, when it is believed, that it can as well 
be refuted, as established, by an argument. 

That the popular religion was held in less esteem, 
was probably a consequence of the more intimate 
connexion, which existed between the elder sophists 
and their predecessors and contemporaries of the 
Eleatic school. In these accusations injustice has 
perhaps been done to some of them ; for it may be 
doubted whether Protagoras deserved the name of 
atheist ;* yet no circumstance probably contributed 
so much to make them odious in the eyes of the 
people. 

If to these things we add their lax moral principles, 
which consisted in lessons of prudence, how life could 
be made easy and be enjoyed, but which doubtless 
assisted in procuring for them pupils and followers, 
we can survey all the evil influence which they 
exercised. And yet these very aberrations of the 
human understanding may have been necessary, to 
awaken the minds which were to point out better 
paths. 

The son of Sophroniscus is the first among these. 
He began the opposition to the sophists. Just as Philip 
called forth a Demosthenes, the sophists produced a 
Socrates. After all that antiquity has left us con- 
cerning him, and all the observations of modern his- 
torians, he is one of the characters most difficult to be 
understood, and stands by himself, not only in his 
own nation, but in the whole history of the culture of 
our race. For what sage, who was neither a public 

* lie liad only said lie knew not whether the gods existed or not ; 
yet for this he was banished from Athens, and his writings were burnt. Sext. 
Emp. ix. 57. That the atheism of Prodicus is uncertain, has been already 
observed by Tennemanu. Gesch. d. Phil. i. S. 377. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 299 

teacher, nor a writer, nor a religious reformer, has 
had such an influence on his own age and on posterity, 
as he? We willingly concede, that his sphere of 
action has far exceeded his own expectations and de- 
signs. These hardly had reference to posterity. 
Every thing seems to indicate, that ihey were calcu- 
lated for his contemporaries alone. But it may with 
justice he remarked, that this only increases the 
difficulty of an explanation. For who will not ask ; 
How could this man, without intending it, have had 
an influence on all centuries after his time? The 
chief reason is to be found in the nature of his philos- 
ophy ; yet external causes came to his assistance. 

After so many have written upon his philosophy, 
it would be superfluous to delineate it anew. It 
made its way, because it immediately related to the 
higher matters of interest to man. While the soph- 
ists were brooding over mere speculations, and their 
contests were but contests of words, Socrates taught 
those who came near him, to look into themselves ; 
man and his relations with the world were the objects 
of his investigations. That we may not repeat what 
has already been so well remarked by others, we will 
here allow ourselves only some general observations 
respecting the philosopher himself and his career. 

His influence was most closely connected with the 
forms of social life in Athens ; in a country where 
these are not the same, a second Socrates could never 
exercise the influence of the first. He gave instruc- 
tion neither in his house, nor in any fixed place ; the 
public squares and halls were the favourite scenes of 
his conversations. For such instruction a proper 
audience can be found only in a nation, in which 



300 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

private life is in a very high degree public in its na- 
ture. This was the case with the Athenians. Such 
a method of teaching could be effectual among them, 
because they were not only accustomed to pass a large 
portion of the day in places of public resort, but also 
to speak of almost every subject which could occur. 
It was here that the sophists passed much of their 
time^ not to give formal instruction, which, as it was 
paid for, was given in a definite place, but, as Plato 
reproaches them, in order to gain rich young men as 
pupils. The war which Socrates had once for all 
declared against them, made him from choice and 
most frequently pass his time, where he could expect 
to find his adversaries, as well as his friends and 
followers.* 

The manner in which he taught, was not less 
important. It was by conversation, not by continued 
discourse. He had therefore adopted the very man- 
ner which is most suitable to public places. But in 
tw^o respects, his conversation, apart from the matter 
it contained, was distinguished from the common 
intercourse of life. The one was the irony whicli he 
knew how to introduce, especially in his attacks on the 
sophists ; the other and more important, was the 
conviction which he often expressed, that he spoke 
from the impulse of divine power. Socrates differs 
from the whole class of men, whom we embrace under 

♦From this point of resemblance, I think we may explain bow Aristoph- 
anes could confound Socrates with the sophists. He represents him as giv- 
ing instruction for money, and in a house of his own, appropriated to study 
{f^$)>rt«rTV(itt) J and these two circumstances are true of the sophists, but not 
of Socrates. I can therefore discover in his Socrates nothing but the repre- 
sentative of the sophists. To be sure the comic poet would have better 
provided for his reputation with posterity, if he had brought a Prodicus or 
Gorgias upon the stage instead of Socrates. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 301 

the name of prophets ; for, while these appear as the 
immediate envoys and messengers of the Divinity, he 
did but occasionally insinuate his claim to this character, 
although he never denied it. He neither desired to 
found a new religion, nor to improve the existing one ; 
which was necessarily the object of the prophets. 
The appearance of a Socrates was therefore the noblest 
result of the separation of philosophy from religion, 
a merit belonging solely to the Greeks; in no Easterii 
nation could a Socrates have found his sphere. 

But he became a martyr to his doctrines. It 
would be superfluous to prove anew, the groundless- 
ness of the charges, that he denied the popular reli- 
gion, and was a corrupter of the youth.* But we 
will not neglect to observe, that by his death he pro- 
duced even more important consequences than by his 
life. If he had been snatched away by sickness, who 
knows whether he would have been remembered more 
than other meritorious instructers? His friends 
and pupils would have spoken of him with respect, 
but hardly with enthusiasm. But the poisoned cup 
ensured him immortality. By his death, in connex- 
ion with his doctrines, he exhibited in reality one 
of those sublime ideal conceptions, of which the Gre- 
cian nation alone is so fertile ; he presented what till 
then had been wanting, the image of a sage who 
dies for his principles. 

The philosophy of Socrates had no immediate 
relations with politics. Its object was man, consider- 
ed as a moral being, not as a citizen. Hence it was 
indirectly of the more importance to the state ; since 

♦ See, beside the works on the history of philosophy, the Essay of Tych- 
-n, Leber den Process des Socrates, in BiW. d. alten Litt. u. Kunst. St. 1. 2. 



302 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

it was nothing less than an attempt to meet the ruin, 
with which the state was threatened by a false kind 
of philosophy. This object was not fully attained; 
but must the blame of it be attributed to Socrates ? 

From his school, or rather from his circle, a num- 
ber of distinguished minds were produced, who in 
part differed from each other in their opinions and 
systems, as opposite poles. This could not have 
happened, but because Socrates had no system, and 
hence laid no claims on the spirit of inquiry. He 
would but excite the minds of others ; and hence we 
perceive how there could have been among his asso- 
ciates, an Antisthenes, who made self-denial, and an 
Aristippus, who made enjoyment the basis of ethics ; 
a Pyrrho, whose object it was to doubt, and a Euclid, 
who was eager to demonstrate. As the philosphy of 
these men was in no manner connected with politics, 
we pass over them ; that we may not leave unmen- 
tioned the greatest of all the pupils of Socrates. 

To comprehend the character of Plato, a genius 
would be required, hardly inferior to his. Common 
or even uncommon philosophic acumen, industry, and 
learning in this case are not sufficient. The mind of 
Plato rose above visible objects, and entered on the 
higher regions, where exist the eternal first forms of 
things. To these his eye was undeviatingly directed, 
as the only regions where knowledge can be found, — 
since there is nothing beyond opinion in the world of 
the senses, — and where real beauty, goodness, and 
justice dwell eternal and unchangeable as the Divin- 
ity, and yet distinct from the Divinity. He who 
cannot follow Plato to those regions, and feel with him 
in the veil of mythological fables, what he himself felt 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 303 

rather than knew ; may make many valuable and cor- 
rect remarks respecting that philosopher^ but is not 
capable, of presenting a perfect and adequate image of 
him. The attempt to give a body to that which is 
etherial^ is vain ; for it then ceases to be etherial. 
But the relation in which he stood to his nation can 
be very distinctly delineated. In him the poetic 
character of the Greeks expressed itself philosophic- 
ally. It was only in a nation so thoroughly poetical, 
that a Plato could be produced. 

Socrates had contemplated man as a moral being ; 
Plato's philosophy embraced the social union. Long 
before him, the state had so far become an object of 
speculation, that writers had endeavoured to sketch 
the model of a perfect constitution. No more imme- 
diate occasion for such exercise could be found than 
in the Grecian cities, which formed as it were the 
model of a chart of free states ; which by means of 
their wants and changes, almost necessarily conducted 
the reflecting mind to such subjects of thought. The 
first distinct attempt of this kind, as we expressly 
learn from Aristotle,* was made by Hippodamus of 
Miletus, who must have been a contemporary of 
Themistocles.f The marked separation of the three 
classes of artists, agriculturalists, and soldiers ; and 
the division which he makes of land into sacred, pub- 
He, and private land, remind us of the Egyptian 
institutions. Not only his plan, but that of Phaneas 
of Chalcedon, is discussed at large by Aristotle. 
Investigations of constitutions and codes of laws now 

♦ Aristot. Polit. ii. cap. 8. 

t According to Aristotle, he was employed in the construction of th« 
Piraeeus, which was the work of Themistocles. 



304 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

became subjects frequently treated of; they could 
hardly have much practical influence, since the days 
were past in which new lawgivers could have appear- 
ed in Greece. Of many works composed in those 
times, none have come down to us but the two treati- 
ses of Plato. These, especially that of the republic, 
are intelligible only to those who comprehend and 
bear always in mind, that the Greeks regarded a 
state as a moral person, which governs itself,, and 
cannot be swayed by any impulse from a higher 
powder,* nor be governed by another. Then it is no 
longer difficult to explain the close and indissoluble 
union between morals and politics, a union which 
modern writers have so frequently called in question. 
During the days of the freedom of Greece, almost 
every grand question connected with theoretical or 
practical philosophy, was made the object of inquiry 
and discussion. The later writers may perhaps have 
answered them differently and with greater acuteness ; 
but to these earliest belongs the great merit of having 
presented to the reflecting mind, the objects after which 
they should strive. The relations of the later systems 
of Grecian philosophy to the earlier ones, show how far 
4\\e Stoic system was allied to the Cynic, the Epicu- 
rean to the Cyrenaic, that of the later sceptics to 
that of Pyrrho and the Eleatic school, — these subjects 
we leave to be explained by some writer, who is capa- 
ble of giving, not a voluminous, but succinct and spir- 
ited account of the efforts made among the Greeks by 
the understanding, as employed on subjects of phi- 
losophy. 

♦We would here especially refer lo the following excellent treastise. J. 
L. G. do Geer. Diatribe it) Politices Plaloiiicse PriDcipia. Trajecti ad Rhe- 
num, 1810. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 305 

If the relation of philosophy to the political insti- 
tutions must be estimated by its reaction on them, the 
reverse is in some measure true of the science of history. 
This stands in connexion with the state, in as much as 
it is the result of the changes and destinies of the 
state. It is true, that history was not long limited 
among the Greeks to their own nation. As there 
was free intercourse with foreigners, accounts and 
traditions respecting their origin, manners, and revo- 
lutions became common. But every thing proceeded 
from the history of their native country ; this always 
remained the central point. And here again we per- 
ceive the just views of the Greeks. Is not each nation 
the nearest object to itself? And next to the present 
moment, what can interest it more than its own pre- 
vious condition ? 

This was early and very generally felt ; and if 
historical accounts have been preserved but scantily 
or not at all, the fault is to be attributed, not to the 
want of exertions to ensure that end, but to the im- 
perfection of the means which the nations could con- 
trol ; that is, not merely to the want of an alphabet, 
but of the materials which are used in writing. Per- 
sepolis, Thebes, Mexico, — do not all these furnish 
distinct proofs of the truth of our remark ? 

But not less depended on the circumstance, wheth- 
er any persons, a peculiar class or cast in the nation, 
were commissioned to record the events as they pass- 
ed. Where a priesthood existed, the preparing of 
the calendar, however imperfect or perfect it might be, 
was their business ; and to this it was easy to add 
the writing of annals. 
39 



:306 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

The Greeks had no such separate order of priests ; 
and hence we hear nothing of any annals which they 
possessed.^ Yet religion still did something for 
history. A multitude of relations, preserving the 
memory of early events, were associated with the con- 
secrated offerings in the temples. How often are 
these referred to by Herodotus? and the historical 
remarks of Pausanias are almost always made in con- 
nexion with them. But they could neither hx a 
succession of time, nor do more than confirm single 
facts. 

The history, therefore, of the Greeks emanated 
from an entirely different source, from tradition ; and 
since this supplied poetry with its subjects, the poets 
remained for centuries the sole preservers of traditional 
accounts. But it does not follow, that Grecian history 
was an invention, because it was originally poetical. 
Indeed it never entirely lost that character. The 
subjects of history, as presented by tradition, were 
only interwoven with fictions. But it is obvious of 
itself, that the character of the Grecian traditions must 
have had a great or even a decisive influence on the 
character of their history. 

By means of the original and continued division 
of the nation into many tribes, the traditions were 
very much enriched. Each tribe had its heroes and 
its deeds of valour to employ the bard. To convince 
ourselves of this, we need but cast a glance on the 
tales of the Grecian heroes. Individuals among them 
who were more distinguished than the rest, as Hercu- 

♦Wliere a sort of hereditary priesthood existed, as in Sicyon, from the 
earliest times, a sort of annals was connected with it. They seem, however, 
to have consisted chiefly in an enumeration of the successiou of priests, and 
thwrefor* hardly deserve the name. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 307 

les and Jason, became the heroes of the nation, and 
therefore the favourites of the poets. And after the 
first great national enterprise, after Troy had fallen, 
need we be astonished that the historic muse prefer- 
red this to all other subjects ? 

All this is too well known to need any more copi- 
ous exposition.* But much as Homer and the cyclic 
poets eclipsed the succeeding ones, historic poetry 
kept pace with the political culture of the nation. 
This union we must not leave unobserved. 

That advancement in political culture was, as we 
observed above, connected with the rising prosperity 
of the cities in Greece and of the colonies. The 
founding of cities therefore formed an essential part 
of the earlier history. But cities were founded by 
heroes ; and the traditions respecting these things 
were therefore intimately connected with the rest. 
Who does not see, how wide a field was here opened 
for historic poetry? Such narrations had always 
a lasting interest for the inhabitants ; they were by 
their very nature, of a kind to be exaggerated till 
they became marvellous ; and were connected with 
accounts of the most ancient voyages ; stories of the 
wonders of foreign and distant countries ; the island 
of the Cyclops, the garden of the Hesperides, the rich 
Iberia, and others. What could afford more agreea- 
ble nourishment to the imagination of a youthful 
people ? What could be more attractive to the 
poets ? 

Hence there arose among the Greeks a particular 
class of historic poems, which is known by the name 

♦ See Heyne. Historiae scribendae inter Grapcos primordia. Comment 
Soc. Sc. Getting, vol. xir. 



308 CIIAPTEU FOURTEENTH. 

of xTL(j£LSn OP poems commemorative of the founding of 
the several cities ; but which both in subject and form 
were in the closest union and alliance witli the others. 
It embraced, it is true, the cities of the mother coun- 
try ; but chiefly the colonies ; and was doubtless 
later than the Homeric age. 

History continued to be treated in a poetical 
manner, till near the time of the Persian wars. How 
deeply, therefore, must the poetic character have been 
imprinted upon Grecian history ? Experience has 
taught that it was indelibly so. When the first 
writers appeared who made use of prose, this char- 
acter was changed only with respect to the form, but 
by no means to the matter. They related in prose 
what the poets had told in verse. This is expressly 
stated by Strabo.* '' The earliest writers,'^ says he, 
^^ Cadmus of Miletus, Pherecydes, Hecatseus, preserv- 
ed the poetic character, though not the measure of 
verse. Those who came after them, were the first to 
descend from that height to the present style of writ- 
ing." The opinion of Cicero seems therefore to have 
been ill founded, when he compares the oldest histo- 
rians, and particularly Pherecydes with the earliest 
annalists of the Romans, Fabius Pictor and Cato,f 
whose style was certainly not poetical. 

The larger number and the earliest of the narra- 
tors of traditions.^ as Herodotus styles them in dis- 
tinction from the epic poets, were lonians. Epic 
poetry was followed by narrations in prose, in the 
very countries where it had been cultivated most 

•Strabo, i. p. 12. Casaub. 
t CicfTO dc Oratore, ii. 12. 
X Tht Xoyay^a^fli, as Ilecata2us and others. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 309 

successfully. History has left us in uncertainty 
respecting the more immediate causes of this change ; 
but has not the East always been the land of fables ? 
Here, where the crowd of colonial cities was spring- 
ing up, which were founded toward the end of the 
heroic age, that class of narrations which relate to 
these subjects, found the most appropriate themes. 
In explaining therefore the origin of historic science 
among the Greeks, it may perhaps be proper to re- 
member, that they participated in the character of 
the oriental nations ; although they merit the glory 
of having subsequently given to that science its true 
and peculiar character. 

But in the period in which the prose style of 
narration was thus forming, the improvement of his- 
toric science appears to have been promoted by sev- 
eral very natural causes. The larger number and 
the most celebrated of those mythological historians 
lived and flourished in the latter half of the sixth cen- 
tury before the christian era ; that is, not long before 
the commencement of the Persian wars.^ Of these 
the earliest are said to have been Cadmus of Miletus, 
and Hecatseus of the same place, Acusilaus of Argos, 
Pherecydes of Syros, Charon of Lampsacus, and sever- 
al others whom Dionysius of Halicarnassus enume- 
rates. They belong to the age in which the nation 
was rising in youthful energy ; when it was already 
extended to the west and the cast, and its flourishing 
cities were engaged in various commerce ; when it 
had become acquainted with many nations, and trav- 
elling had begun to be common. From the title of 
the works of these narrators of traditions, it is evident 

♦Between the 60th and TOfh Olympiad, or 540—500 years B. C. 



310 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

that they were not concerned to limit themselves to 
the accounts^ which they found in the ancient epic 
poets ; hilt that they took a wider range, embracing 
the history of cities and nations, and also the descrip- 
tion of the coasts of the countries. A proof of this is 
found in the catalogue of the writings of Hellanicus 
the Lesbian, one of the latest of them.* 

These remarks, when considered in connexion, 
will serve to show us the character of history before 
Herodotus. It was in its origin entirely Grecian ; 
and even when the sphere of observation was extend- 
ed to foreign countries, kept pace with the political 
advancement of the nation. It preserved its poetical 
character, and therefore did not become critical ; but it 
was developed with perfect freedom ; and was never 
held by the priests in bondage to religion. As poetry 
had for a long time been the means of its preserva- 
tion, it became in some measure tlie play of fancy, 
(although epic poetry was much more restricted 
than the subsequent lyric and tragic) ; but in return, 
as it was propagated by no hieroglyphics, it could 
never, as in Egypt, degenerate into mere symbolical 
narration. When it came to be transferred from 
poetry to prose, it was necessarily connected with 
the improvements in the art of writing; and the 
deficiency of our accounts respecting this pointf is 
one of the chief reasons why we are so little able to 
mark the progress of its particular branches. But 

♦ See Creuzer : The Historic Art among the Greeks in its Origin and Prog- 
ress. Die historischc Kunst der Griechen in ihrer Entstehnng und Fortbil- 
dung, S. 80. In this excellent work, the inquiry respecting the Xeyey^xf^i 
is ronducted with such care, that I think it sufficient to refer to it. 

t Modern scholars, by their investigations, have^made this deficiency very 
apparent. Sec Wolfii rrolcgom. p. xl. etc. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 311 

whatever influence these causes may have exercised; 
the great reason which retarded historic science 
before Herodotus, lay in the want of subjects. 

Before the Persian wars, there was no subjest capa- 
ble of inspiring the historian. The Trojan war, the Ar- 
gonautic expedition, all great undertakings, belonged 
to tradition, and hence belonged more than half to poe- 
try. The narrations of the origin of the individual cities^ 
accounts of distant nations and countries, might gratify 
curiosity, might afford amusement ; but nothing more. 
There existed no great national subject of universal 
interest. 

At length came the Persian wars. The victory 
at Marathon first awakened the spirit of valour; 
whether this was more inflamed by the defeat at 
Thermopylae, or the victory at Salamis, it is difficult 
to say ; with the battle of Platsese, freedom was 
saved. What a subject for the historic Muse ! 

This subject, from its very nature, belonged ex- 
clusively to history ; and poetry had no share in it. 
It was no subject of hoary antiquity, nor yet of the 
present moment ; but of a period which had but 
recently passed away. And yet it came so variously 
in contact with tradition, that a historian in a critical 
age would often have been compelled to take his walks 
into the regions of mythology. How much more, then, 
at a time, when the bounds between history and tra- 
dition had not yet been in the slightest degree mark- 
ed out. 

Herodotus employed himself on this subject, and 
managed it in a manner which surpassed all expecta- 
tion. Many things, it is true, served to facilitate 
his labour. Many attempts had been made to explain 



312 CHAPTEU FOURTEENTH. 

the earliest history of cities and nations ; travelling 
had heen rendered easy by the extensive commerce 
of the Grecian cities, and several of his predecessors 
are known to have visited many countries ;* the my- 
thological writers {Xoyoygdcpoi) had already formed 
the language for prosaic narration : and the nation 
for which he wrote, was already awake to the beau- 
ties of historic composition. Yet he was the first who 
undertook to treat of ii purely historical subject; and 
thus to take the decisive step, which gave to history 
its rank as an independent science. Yet he did not 
limit himself to his chief subject, but gave it such an 
extent, that his work, notwithstanding its epic unity, 
became in a certain sense a universal history.f Con- 
tinuing the thread of his story from the times when 
controversies first arose between the Hellenes and 
the barbarians, till those when at Plataeae the war 
was terminated so gloriously for the Greeks, Hellas, 
attacked but liberated, became the great subject of 
his narration ; opportunities were constantly pre- 
senting themselves or were introduced, of interweav- 
ing the description and history of the countries and 
nations, which required to be mentioned; without 
ever losing sight of his chief object, to which he re- 
turns from every episode. He had himself visited 
the greater part of these countries and nations ; had 
seen them with his own eyes ; had collected informa- 
tion from the most credible sources. But when he 
enters upon the antiquities of the nations, especially 
of his own, he makes use of the means aflbrded him by 
his age ; and here his work borders on those of the 

♦ As Hecatfeus and Pherecydes. 
\ Only the history of the Assyrians he reserved for a separate work ; i. 184. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 313 

earlier historians (the Xoyoyga(poi). It is no longer 
necessary to appear as his defender ; posterity has 
not continued unjust towards him. No writer has 
received more frequent confirmation by the advances 
vvhich^ within the last thirty years, have been made in 
the knowledge of nations and countries, than Herodo- 
tus, who was formerly so often the object of ridi- 
cule. But our sole purpose was to show in what 
manner the science of history had been elevated by 
his choice of a subject ; and how this choice was 
intimately connected with the impulse given to the 
political character of his nation. 

The first great step had thus been taken. A 
purely historical subject, relating to the past, but to 
no distant period, and no longer belonging to tradition, 
had been treated by a master, who had devoted the 
largest part of his life to a plan, framed with deliber- 
ation and executed with enthusiasm. The nation 
possessed an historical work, which first showed what 
history is ; and which was particularly well fitted 
to awaken a taste for it. As Herodotus read his 
work to all Greece assembled at Olympia, a youth, 
according to the tradition, was incited by it to be- 
come, not his imitator, but his successor. 

Thucjdides appeared. His predecessor had writ- 
ten a history of the past. He became the historian 
of his own time. He was the first who seized on this 
idea, on which the whole character of his work de- 
pends ; though others, especially the ancient cities, 
looked for it in his style, his eloquence, and other 
secondary matters. By this means he advanced the 
the science of history in a higher degree than he 

10 



314 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

himself was aware of. His subject made him neces- 
sarily a critic. 

The storm of the Persian wars had been terrific, 
but transitory. During its continuance, no histo- 
rian could appear. It was not till after its fury 
had for some time abated, and men had regained 
their composure of mind, that Herodotus could find a 
place. Amidst the splendor of the victories which 
had been gained, under the shade of security won by 
valour, — with what emotions did the Greek look 
back upon those years ? Who could be more welcome 
to him than the historian, who painted for him this 
picture of his own glory, not only as a whole, but in 
its parts ! The age of Thucydides, on the contrary, 
was full of grandeur, but of difficulties. In the long 
and obstinate war with one another, the Grecian 
states sought to overturn each other from their very 
foundations. It was not the age of wars only, but 
of revolutions with all their horrors. Whether a 
man were an aristocrat or democrat, a friend of 
Athens or of Sparta, was the question on which 
depended fortune, liberty, and life. A beneficent 
reverse rescued Thucydides from the whrilpool ; and 
gave him that immortality, which the capture of Am- 
phipolis never could have conferred on him.* The 
fruit of his leisure was the history of his age ; a work 
he himself proposed to write, and actually wrote, for 
eternity. t 

♦After Amphipolis had been taken by Brasidas, Thucydides was accused 
of having come too late to the assistance of that city, and was banished by 
the Athenian people ; he actually passed 20 years in exile in Thrace, where 
he possessed valuable mines. Let Thucydides himself be heard on this sub- 
ject, iv. 104, and v. 26. 

\ KrrifAa its xir Thucyd. i. 22. 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 315 

This is not the place to eulogize the man, who 
remained calm amidst all the turbulence of the pas- 
sions, the only exile that has written an iaipartial 
history. His acquaintance with states and business, 
his deep political acuteness, his nervous style, though 
occasionally uncouth, — have all been illustrated by 
others. We will only allow ourselves to show, by a 
few remarks, how much historic science was advanced 
by the nature of his subject. 

The undertaking of the man who was the first to 
form the idea of writing the history of his own times, 
and of events in which he himself had a share, must 
not be compared with that of the modern writer, who 
compiles it from many written documents. He was 
compelled to investigate every thing by personal in- 
quiry ; and that, too, in a period when every thing 
was misrepresented by passion and party spirit. But 
antiquity had not inwrapped his subject in the veil of 
tradition, nor had it in its nature any epic interest. 
The subject was thoroughly prosaic ; setting before 
the writer no other aim, than that of exhibiting the 
truth. In this lay the sole interest ; and to ascertain 
and repeat the truth, is all which we can fairly 
demand of the historian. We honour and respect 
him, because, penetrated with the consciousness of his 
dignity, he never for a moment becomes untrue to it. 
A sentiment of reverence accompanies us from the 
first to the last leaf of his work. Not the historian, 
History herself seems to address us. 

But to what new views must he have been led, 
when with the desire of arriving at truth, he turned 
his eyes to the form under which history had thus far 
appeared ? It was his immediate aim to relate the 



316 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

events of his own times ; but the preceding age could 
not remain wholly excluded from the sphere of his 
observation. It appeared to him clothed in the man- 
tle of tradition ; and he who scrutinized every thing 
with care^ was not caught by its delusive splendor. 
He endeavoured to contemplate antiquity, as it was, 
to take from it this false glare, leaving nothing but the 
light of truth; and thus was produced that invaluable 
introduction which precedes his work. 

By such means Thucydides was the inventor of an 
art, which before him had been almost unknown, the 
art of historic criticism ; without being conscious of 
the infinite value of his invention. For he did not 
apply it to all branches of knowledge, but only to his 
subject, because it was a natural consequence of that 
subject. The historic Muse had made him acquaint- 
ed with her most secret nature; no one before or after 
him has drawn the line more clearly between history 
and tradition. And what is this, but to draw the 
distinction between the historic culture of the East 
and West ? and — if we recognise how much depended 
on this historic culture — between the whole scien- 
tific culture of the East and West? For to repeat 
a remark, which has already been cursorily made, 
the great difTerencc between the two, consists in this ; 
in the West, the free spirit of criticism was developed, 
and in the East never. 

It is therefore just to say, that Thucydides advan- 
ced with a giant's step. It is just to say, that he rose 
above his age ; neither his own nor the following could 
reach him. Poetic tradition was too deeply inter- 
woven with Grecian history, to admit of an entire 
separation. A Theopompus and Ephorus, whenever 



SCIENCES IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 317 

the heroic age was to be discussed, drew their ma- 
terials with as little concern from the writers of my- 
thological fables and the poets, as if Thucydides 
never had written. 

A third step yet remained to be taken ; and it 
was in some respects the most dangerous of all ; to 
become tlie historian of one's own exploits. This 
step was taken by Xenophon. For when we speak of 
his historic writings, his Anabasis so far surpasses 
the rest, that it alone deserves to be mentioned. But 
this new step may with propriety be called one of 
the most important. Would that he who ventured to 
take it, had found many successors ! By the mild- 
ness and modesty of his personal character, Xeno- 
phon was secured from the faults, into which men are 
so apt to fall, when they describe their own actions ; 
although these virtues and the nature of his subject 
could not give his work those superior qualities, 
which the genius of Cse^ar knew how to impart to his 
commentaries. 

Thus in the period of their freedom, all the prin- 
cipal kinds of history were developed among the 
Greeks. What was done afterwards, can hardly 
be called progress, although the subjects of history 
grew more various and more extensive with the 
enlarged sphere of politics in the Macedonian and 
Roman age ; and the idea of a universal history was 
more distinctly entertained. But after the downfall 
of liberty, when rhetoric became prevalent and was 
applied to history, the higher kind of criticism ceased 
to be employed in it. The style, the manner in 
which a subject was treated, was regarded ; not the 



} 



318 CHAPTER FOURTEENTH. 

subject itself. The essence was forgotten in disputes 
about the form. We have abundant proofs of this 
in the judgments of Dionysius of Halicarnassus, who 
has nevertheless been usually mentioned as the first 
of these critics. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 319 



CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 



POETRY AND THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATZ. 

Whether in our inquiries on the political insti- 
tutions of Greece, their poetry and arts must be con- 
sidered, — will hardly be made a question by any of 
my readers. Almost every one of the preceding 
chapters has served to show how closely they were 
connected with the state. Yet our remarks must be 
limited to the question : What was the nature, and 
what were the consequences of this connexion? But 
even in answering this we might be carried very far, 
if we were to pass the bounds which the character of 
this work prescribes. In speaking of poetry, we 
would principally consider the dramatic ; since we 
have already spoken of the epic. But the drama 
can hardly be discussed, separate from lyric poetry. 
We place the arts in immediate connexion with poetry, 
because nature herself had united them among the 
Greeks ; among whom the arts are as it were the 
key to poetry. The remark of a modern critici^ is 
perfectly true, that the masterpieces of the plastic art 
furnish the best commentary on the tragedians. Al- 
though it is not always the same persons whom the poets 
and the sculptors bring before us, we yet form from 
them our conceptions of the ideal forms. He who has 

♦ A. W. Schlegel, aber dramatlsche Kunst und Litteratur, Th. i. S. 67. 
A. W. Schlegel, on Dramatic Literature. 



320 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

seen the sublime figures of Niobe and of Laocoon, 
can easily represent to his mind an Electra or an (Edi- 
pus in the forms under which they floated in the 
mind of the poet. 

With the advancing culture of Greece, the con- 
nexion between poetry and arts, and the state, 
proportionably increased ; and was therefore most 
intimate in its most flourishing age. Even the ear- 
liest lawgivers of the Greeks regarded poetry as the 
chief means of forming the character of youth ; and 
and even of exercising an influence on their riper 
years. But in an age when there was as yet no lite- 
rature, poetry could not be separate from song ; and 
was commonly accompanied with an instrument. 
Hence came the meaning of the word music, which 
embraced all this together. Yet this is chiefly true 
of lyric poetry, which, as the immediate express- 
ion of the feelings of the poet, was much more inti- 
mately connected with song than the epic. If we do 
but bear constantly in mind the leading idea which 
the Greek had framed of a state, as a moral person 
which was to govern itself, we can comprehend the 
whole importance, which music, in the wider sense 
of the word, possessed in the eyes of the Grecian 
lawgivers. It seemed to them in that age, when there 
was as yet no philosophic culture, when the feelings 
and the management of the feelings were of the great- 
est moment, the best means of influencing them ; and 
we need not be astonished, when we read in Plutarch* 
and other writers, of the great severity with which the 
laws, especially in Sparta, insisted on the preserva- 
tion of the ancient music, and the established tunes. 

♦In his Essay De MusicCi. Op. ii. p. 1131. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 321 

It may be difficult in our days, when music is no longer 
considered the lever of national force, *^ to form any 
distinct idea of those institutions of the ancients. 
But as human nature is never untrue to itself, institu- 
tions which are founded on it. are always preserved 
to a certain extent and under certain forms. In the 
nineteenth century, in which there is no longer any 
danger of corrupting a nation by changes in music 
(although it would be very presumptuous to give a 
hasty opinion on its influence and effects), no regi- 
pient is raised without its band ; and the commander, 
who instead of a warlike march should order a dirge 
to be played, would justly incur the s^me reproaches 
with him who in ancient days made an unseasonable 
use of the Lydian instead of the Dorian measure. 
Lyric poetry was moreover intimately connect- 
ed with the popular religion ; or was in fact a re- 
sult of it; for hymns in praise of the gods are men- 
tioned as its first fruits.f It was therefore important 
to the str.te as a support of the popular religion ; 
particularly by contributing to the splendor of the 
festivals. For when was a festival celebrated by the 
Greeks, and the songs of the poets not heard ? 
But they received their greatest importance from the 
institution of choral songs. These choruses, even 
independent of the drama, were the chief ornament 
of the festivals ; and were composed of persons of 
various ages. There were those of youths, of 

♦That in his times, when music was used only in the theatres, it had 
lost its ancient application, is the complaint of Plutarch, ii. 1140. 

t " Music," says Plutarch, ii. p. 1140, " was first made use of in the tem- 
ples and sacred places in praise of the gods, ajid for the instruction of youth, 
long before it was introduced into the theatres, which at that time were not 
in existence. 

41 



322 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

men, and of the aged ; which responded to each other 
alternately in song.^ As the festivals were a public 
concern, so too were the choruses ; and we have no 
cause to be astonished, that the preparation of them 
formed a part of the civil burdens. 

The choral song at the festivals was as ancient as 
the heroic age, or at least as the times of Homer.f 
Although it was capable of receiving great ornaments 
and did actually receive them, it did not necessarily 
require any great preparations. The similar specta- 
cles which modern travellers have witnessed in the 
islands of the South sea, especially the Society Is- 
lands, carry us back to the earlier world of Greece. 
The drama was the result of those choruses ; but 
from its nature it could only be a later fruit of the 
poetic spirit of the nation. 

The drama interests us here only in its connexion 
with the state. But this inquiry goes very deeply 
into its nature. A question arises of a twofold char- 
acter : What did the state do for the drama, and in 
what respects was the drama, by its nature and organ- 
ization, connected with and of importance to the 
state ? 

Dramatic poetry, whose object is to give a distinct 
and lively representation of an action, always requires 
decorations, however splendid or paltry they may 
be ; and an assembly, before which the representation 
may be made. Dramatic poetry is therefore essen- 
tially more public than that of any other description. 
Of all kinds of verse, this concerns the state the most 

♦ See ill parlicular the whole oration of Demosthenes against Midias, who 
had abused Demosthenes as choragus, or leader of tlie chorus. 

t See the Hymn, in ApoU. v. 147, Lc. respecting the choruses at the Io- 
nian festivals in Delos. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 323 

nearly. Among the Greeks we may add, that it was 
an affair of religion, and therefore an essential part of 
their festivals. Bat these festivals were entirely an 
affair of the state ; they belonged, as has been observ- 
ed above, to the most urgent political wants. Here 
then we find a reason why the state should not only 
have so much encouraged dramatic exhibitions, but 
have even considered them no less essential than the 
popular assemblies and popular tribunals. A Grecian 
state could not exist without festivals, nor festivals 
without choruses and plays. 

In what manner the state encouraged the drama, 
we know only with respect to Athens. But that the 
other Grecian cities in the mother country, and also 
in the colonies, had their th eatres no less than Athens, 
is apparent from the remains of them, which are 
almost always to be found wherever there are traces 
of a Grecian city. The theatres were built and deco- 
rated at the public expense ; we find in Grecian cities 
no instance, as far as my knowledge extends, where 
private persons erected them, as was usual in Rome. 
Their structure was always the same, such as may 
still be seen in Herculaneum ; and we must therefore 
infer, that all the external means of representation 
remained the same ; although the wealth and taste of 
individual cities introduced higher degrees of splen- 
dor ; which in our times we may observe in our larger 
cities, compared with the smaller or provincial towns. 
But from the remains of the Grecian theatres, the size 
and extent of these buildings are apparent, and their 
great dissimilarity in this respect to modern ones. 
If they had not been regarded as a real want, and if 
the emulation of the cities had not also exerted its 



324 CHAPTER FiFTEEiNTH. 

iniiuence, we might doubt whether sufficient means 
could have been found for erecting them. 

The bringing forward of the single plays belonged 
to the civil burdens [XBirovgylaL), which the opulent 
were obliged to bear in rotation, or which they 
voluntarily assumed. We can hardly doubt, that 
these regulations in other cities resembled those 
in Athens, though on this subject we have no distinct 
testimony. Thus the state threw these expenses in 
part upon private persons ; but the matter was not 
the less a public concern, for this expense was consid- 
ered as a contribution due to the state. But another 
regulation may astonish us still more than this : the 
regulation by which money was granted from the 
public treasury to the poorer citizens, that they might 
be able to visit the theatres. This was the case in 
Athens, though not till the times in which the state 
began to sink under the moral corruption of its citizens. 
The desire of pleasure may in such periods degenerate 
into a sort of phrenzy ; and the preservation of tran- 
quillity may demand sacrifices, which are reluctantly 
made even by those who consent. 

Though the oldest dramatic essays among the Greeks 
may be of a more remote age, there is no doubt that iEs- 
chylus was the father, not only of the finished drama, 
but also of the Grecian stage. It was not, therefore, till 
after the victories over the Persians (he himself fought 
in the battle of Salamis) that a theatre of stone was 
erected in Athens ;* and all that concerns the drama 
began to be developed in that city. The contests of 
the poets, which were introduced there at the festi- 

♦ The occasion is related by Suidas in H^arU*!' At the representation 
of a play of ^scbylus, the woodea scaffold, on which the spectators stood, 
gave way. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 325 

vals of Bacchus, and which, though they cost the 
state only a crown, rewarded the poet more than gold 
could have done, contributed much to excite emula- 
tion. It was about this time that Athens began to 
be the seat of literature, and in the scale of political 
importance, the first state in Greece. Hence we can 
explain the remarkable fact, that the dramatic art 
seemed in that city as at home. Athens directed the 
taste of the other cities ; and without being the cap- 
ital in the same degree as Paris and London, her 
great superiority in intellectual culture secured to her 
that supremacy, which was the more glorious, as it 
rested not on violence, but on the voluntary concession 
of her preeminence. 

I am acquainted with no investigation on the 
question, in what manner, after the erection of a 
stage at Athens, theatrical amusements were extended 
throughout the other Grecian cities. The ruins 
which remain in them, leave it still uncertain, when 
they were built ; and where can we find dates to 
settle this point? But so many vestiges make it 
highly probable, that the drama was introduced into 
the other cities before the Macedonian age. Neither 
tragic nor comic poets were at home in Athens exclu- 
sively ; but started up in the most various regions of 
the Grecian world.* Athenian poets were invited to 
resort to the courts of foreign princes.f A king of 
Syracuse was himself a tragic poet.J In the same 

♦ Abundant proof may be found in Fabricii Bibl. Gr. T. i. in the Catalog. 
Tragicorum and Comicorum deperditorum. 

t Euripides was invited to repair to the court of Archelaus, king of Mace- 
donia. 

X Dionysius the elder. A fragment of his has been preserved in Stoh. 
Eclog. i. iv. 19. 



326 CHAPTEU FIFTEENTH. 

city, Athenian captives regained their liberty by 
fragments from the tragedies of Euripides. The 
inhabitants of Abdera, when their fellow-citizen Ar- 
chelaus played the part of Andromeda, were seized 
with a theatric passion bordering on madness.* Oth- 
er proofs, if necessary, might be found. It may 
seem doubtful, whether the same may be said of the 
comic drama ; which in Athens was of so local a 
character, that it could hardly have been understood 
in the other cities ; or at least much of its wit must 
have been lost. But is it safe from the few remain- 
ing pieces of a single comic poet to judge of the hun- 
dreds produced by a multitude of others, and no 
longer extant ? 

To answer the other question : In what relation 
the theatre among the Greeks, from its very nature, 
stood to the state, we must distinguish its two chief 
divisions. Before the Macedonian age, while come- 
dy "/as still permitted to preserve its republican char- 
acter,! tragedy and comedy, as there were no inter- 
mediate kinds, J remained as different from each 
other, as seriousness and mirth. They had no points 
of contact. 

Tragedy, introducing upon the stage the heroes 
of Greece, was the representation of great events of 
the elder days, according to the ideal conceptions of 
the Greeks ;^ comedy, on the contrary, was the par- 

♦Lucian. de conscrib. histor. Op. iv. p. 159, BIp. 

t The old comedy, as it was called. 

X The sHtyric drama, as it was called, was not an intermediate class, but 
a corruption of tragedy. 

^Two plays, the Persians of ^Escbylus, and the Destruction of Miletus of 
Phrynichus formed exceptions. But they had no imitators ; and the 
last mentioned poet was even punished for it by the Athenians. Herod, vi. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 327 

ody of the present ; as we shall hereafter illustrate 
more fully. In these explanations, the whole differ- 
ence of the two has been expressed. 

Tragedy was in certain respects a result of epic 
poetry. For this had always preserved the recollec- 
tion of the heroic age ; without which the tragic poets 
would have had to contend with no less difficulties, 
than the moderns, when they have borrowed subjects 
from the fables of the North. It was only necessary to 
mention the name of the chief person, and the whole 
story of his adventures was recalled to every mind. 
Hence the artificial weaving of a plot, was only so 
far a duty of the poet, as the nature of the drama re- 
quires ; grandeur and liveliness of manner were on 
the contrary far more in the spirit of the heroic world. 
Not the event, but the character of the action, was 
important. Whether the issue was fortunate or un- 
fortunate, was a matter of indifference ; but it was 
necessary that the action should be in itself sublime ; 
should be the result of the play of the passions ; and 
should never depart from the gravity, which is as it 
were the colouring of the world of heroes. In this 
consists the tragic part of the drama. But though 
the final event was in itself indifferent, it was natural 
for the poets to prefer subjects, in which it was un- 
fortunate for the chief personages. In such the tragic 

21. Here too we observe the correct judgment of the nation, which desired, 
in the tragic drama, an excitement of the passions ; but purely of the pas- 
sions, without any personal allusions. This was possible only in subjects 
taken from early times. But still a certain regard for historic truth, as 
contained in the traditions, was recjuired by the Grecian taste. Subjects al- 
together fictitious were unknown. The consequences of this deserve to be 
illustrated at large. If the tragic drama was thus limited to tiio traditions 
respecting the heroes, it at the same time obtained a certain solemn support 
which gave it dignity. 



328 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

interest was the greatest ; the catastrophe the most 
tremendous ; the effect least uncertain. A tragic 
issue suited best the whole character of the kind of 
poetry. 

The tragic drama could have but few points of 
relation with the state. The political world which 
was here exhibited, was entirely different from the 
actual one of the times ; the forms of monarchy alone 
were introduced on the stage. The same remark, 
therefore, which has been made respecting the epic,* 
is true also of the tragic poetry of the Greeks. The 
violent commotions in the ancient royal families and 
their extinction, were not represented to make them 
objects of contempt or hatred, and to quicken the 
spirit of republicanism ; but solely because no other 
actions equally possessed the sublimity of the tragic 
character. But the moral effects which were produc- 
ed by these representations, may have been political- 
ly important. Whilst the Grecian continued to live 
in the heroic world, that elevation of mind could not 
so well disappear, which is seen so frequently in 
the acts of the nation. If Homer and the epic 
poets first raised its spirit to the sublimity belong- 
ing to it, the tragic poets did much to preserve 
that elevated tone. And if this elevated spirit form- 
ed the strength of the state, they have as strong a 
claim to immortality, as the military commanders and 
the leaders of the people. 

Comedy was more closely allied to the state ; as 
we may presuppose from the circumstance, that it had 
relation to the present and not to the past. We have 

♦Sec above, p. 122 



1»0ETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 329 

explained it above to be the parody of the present ;* 
that is of the contemporary public condition, in the 
sense in which the Greeks understand this expression. 
Private life, as such, was never the subject of comedy, 
except so far as it was connected with the public. 
But these points of contact were so many and so vari- 
ous, that the comic poet could not but frequently 
present views of private life. The relation of come- 
dy was therefore altogether political, so far as we 
comprehend every thing public under this word. But 
the scenes which were exhibited, were not represent- 
ed with fidelity, but were caricatured. This seems 
to have been agreed upon by a silent convention ; and 
therefore such representations could not injure those 
against whom they were directed, much more than 
the caricature prints of our times. We would not be 
understood to justify unconditionally the incredible 
impudence of the Grecian comic poets, in whose eyes 
neither men, nor morals, nor the gods were sacred. 
But a public tribunal of character is an actual necessi- 
ty, where a popular government exists ; and in those 
times what other such tribunal could have existed 
than the theatre ? Whatever excited public atten- 
tion, whether in persons or in things, it might be 
expected, would be brought upon the stage. The 
most powerful demagogue, in the height of his power, 

* A. W. Schlegel, in his work on Dramatic Literature and Art, i. p. 271, con- 
siders the characteristic of comedy to have been, tliat it was a parody of 
tragedy. It certainly was so very frequently, and thus far his remark is 
correct. Tragedy was a part of the public life ; the parody of tragedy was 
therefore a fit subject for the comic stage ; and the relation between the 
tragic and comic poets was such, that the latter were naturally fond of ridi- 
culing the former. The readers of Aristophanes know this. Yet we must 
be very careful how we coBfine the range of comedy to this. 

42 



330 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

did not escape this fate ; nay, the people of Athens 
itself had the satisfaction of seeing itself personified, 
and brought upon the stage, where it could laugh 
at itself, till it was satisfied with mirth ;* and — 
crowned the poet for having done it. What is our 
freedom of the press, our licentiousness of the press 
compared with this dramatic freedom and licentious- 
ness? 

But though the ridicule of the comic poets could not 
much injure the individual against whom it 'chanced 
to be directed, the question is still by no means 
answered, What consequences had the comic drama 
for the state, and for morals, which with the Greeks 
were inseparably connected with state? Those 
judgments passed on public characters may have had 
some influence, but not a great deal ; unless perhaps 
to make men more cautious ; and this was no small 
consideration. When we see that Pericles, notwith- 
standing all the attacks of the comic poets,! was not 
to be deposed, and that even Cleon, when he had been 
made a public jest in the person of the Paphlagonian, 
lost nothing of his influence, we cannot make a very 
hio;h estimate of that advantage. So far as morals 
are concerned, it is true, that the ideas of propriety 
are conventional ; and that it would be wrong to infer 
from a violation of them in language, a corresponding 
violation in action. The inhabitant of the North, 
who has not grown accustomed to the much greater 
license given to the tongue by the southern nations, 
may here easily be mistaken. The jokes of Harlequin, 
especially in his extemporaneous performances, are 

♦ As in the Knights of Aristophanes. 

t Specimens of them may be seen in Plutarch. Op. i. p. 620. 



POETRY IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 331 

often hardly less indecent than those of Aristophanes ; 
and the southern countries are not on that account 
on the whole more corrupt than the northern, although 
some offences are more common in the former. But 
the incredible levity, with which the rules of modesty 
were transgressed, could not remain without conse- 
quences. Another important point is the influence 
of comedy on the religion of the people. The comic 
poets were careful never to appear as atheists ; that 
would have led to exile ; they rather defended the 
popular religion. But the manner in which this 
was done^ was often worse than a direct attack. Who 
could appear with reverent devotion at the altar of 
Jove, after growing weary with laughing at him in 
the Clouds, or after having seen him pay court to 
earthly beauties. Even on the minds of the most 
frivolous nation in the world, indelible impressions 
must have been made. 

The ancient comedy has commonly been called a 
political farce ; and the expression is just, if we inter- 
pret the word political in the wide sense in which 
w^e have explained it. It is sufficiently known, that, 
after the downfall of the popular rule, there was no 
longer any field for this ancient comedy, that it lost 
its sting in the middle comedy as it is termed, and 
that the new was of an entirely different character.* 
As this new kind lost its local character with the 
personal allusions, the old obstacles to its diffusion 
throughout the Grecian world no longer existed. 
And though we may doubt whether the plays of 
Cratinus and Aristophanes were ever acted out of 

•The difference of these kinds is best explained in the excellent work of 
^chlegel, i. p. 326. 



332 CHAPTEU FIFTEENTH. 

Athens, no question can certainly be raised with 
respect to those of Menander and Diphilus. But as 
this new species of theatrical composition was not 
introduced and perfected till the Macedonian age, 
the subject does not fall within the sphere of our 
observations. 

With our notions we should think the connexion of 
the arts with politics much less than that of the theatre ; 
and yet it was among the Greeks even closer and more 
various. The encouragement of the arts is in our times 
left chiefly to private taste ; and is greater or smaller 
according to the number of amateurs. The state takes 
an interest in them only to prevent their total decay, 
or for the sake of some particular design. 

The case was entirely different in the period 
when they flourished among the Greeks. The arts 
with them were exclusively public, and not at all an 
affair of individuals. They afterwards became so to 
a certain extent ; but yet never in the same degree as 
with us ; nor even as with the Romans. These po- 
sitions require to be further developed and more 
accurately proved. 

By the arts we mean the three great branches 
of them, architecture, sculpture, and painting. On 
each of these we have some remarks to off'er. 

Architecture is distinguished from the two others 
by the circumstance, that its object is use no less than 
beauty. Not only the moderns, but the Romans of the 
later ages, endeavoured to unite them both ; and in 
this manner private buildings became objects of the 
art. Among the Greeks, a tendency to this seems 
to have existed in the heroic age. In a former chap- 
ter, wc remarked that in the dwellings and halls of 



THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 333 

the kings, there prevailed a certain grandeur and 
splendor, which, however, we shall hardly be willing 
to designate by the name of scientific architecture. 
When the monarchical forms disappeared, and living 
in cities, and with it republican equality, gained ground, 
those differences in the dwellings disappeared of 
themselves ; and every thing which we read respect- 
ing private houses in every subsequent age, confirms 
us in the idea, that they could make no pretensions to 
elegance of construction.^ It would be difficult to 
produce a single example of such a building. But 
we find express evidence to the contrary. Athens 
was by no means a fine city like some of our modern 
ones, in which there are whole streets of palaces 
occupied as the dwellings of private persons. A 
stranger could have been in Athens without imagin- 
ing himself to be in the city which contained the 
greatest masterpieces of architecture. The splendor 
of the city was not perceived till the public squares 
and the Acropolis were approached. f The small dwel- 
lings of Themistocles and of Aristides were long 
pointed out ; and the building of large houses was 
regarded as a proof of pride. J: But when luxury 
increased, the houses were built on a larger scale ; 
several chambers for the accommodation of strangers 
and for other purposes were built round the court, 
which commonly formed the centre ; but all this might 
take place, and yet the building could lay no claims 

♦ It follows of course, that the testimony of writers of the Macedonian, 
or the Roman age, are not here taken into consideration, since we are not 
treating of those times. 

t Dicaearchus de Statu Graecia?. cap. 8. Huds. 

t Demosthenes reproaches the wealthy Midias with his largre house at 
Eleusis, which intercepted the light of others. Op. i. p. 565. 



334 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH, 

to beauty. If a town, which was, it is true, but a 
provincial town, may be cited to corroborate this, we 
have one still before our eyes. A walk through the 
excavated streets of Pompeii, will be sufficient to es- 
tablish our remark. Where the pomp and splendor 
of the public edifices were so great as among the 
Greeks, it was not possible for private buildings to 
rival them. 

Architecture, as applied to public purposes, began 
with the construction of temples ; and till the time 
of the Persian wars or just before, we hear of no other 
considerable public edifices. The number of temples 
remarkable for their architecture, was till that time a 
limited one ; although, in the age just preceding the 
war with Persia, this art had already produced some 
of its first works among the Greeks. In Greece itself 
the temple of Delphi was the most celebrated, after 
it had been rebuilt by the Alcmseonidse.* There was 
also the temple of Apollo in Delos. But it was about 
this time, that the invention of the Ionic order by the 
Asiatic Greeks in addition to the Doric, which had been 
used till then, constituted a new epoch in the history of 
architecture. The splendid temple of Diana at Ephesus 
erected by the joint exertions of the cities and princes 
of Grecian Asia, was the first building in this new 
style.f About the same time Polycrates built the 
temple of Juno in Samos. The temples which after- 
wards formed the glory of Greece, those of Athens on 
the Acropolis and elsewhere, were all erected after 
the Persian war. So too was the temple of Jupiter 

♦Herod. V. 62. 

t See the instrncli\ e disquisition : DerTempel der Diana zu EpUesus, von 
A. Hirt. Berlin, 1609. 



THE ARTS m CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 335 

at Olympia. As to the temples in Lower Italy and 
Sicily, we can fix the epoch in which, if not all, yet the 
largest and most splendid of them, the chief temples 
of Agrigentum, were erected ; and that epoch is also 
subsequent to the Persian war.* And if those of th6 
ancient Doric order, at Psestum and Segestus, belong 
to an earlier period, they cannot to one much earlier ; 
as these cities themselves were founded so much later 
than those in Asia Minor. Just before and after the 
Persian war, arose that prodigious emulation of the 
cities, to make themselves famous for their temples; « 
and this produced those masterpieces of architecture. 
The other principal kinds of public buildings, 
which were conspicuous for their splendor, were 
the theatres, the places for musical exhibitions, the 
porticos, and the gymnasia. Of the theatres, it has 
already been observed, that they were erected subse- 
quently to the Persian wars. The same is true 
of the halls for music. The porticos, those fa- 
vourite places of resort to a people who lived so 
much in public, belonged in part to the temples,! 
and in part surrounded the public squares. Of those 
in Athens, which by their works of art eventually 
eclipsed the rest, we know that they wxre not built 
till after the victory over the barbarians. Of all the 
public edifices, the gymnasia are those respecting 
which we have the fewest accounts.f They were 

♦ A more accurate enumeration of the chief temples of the Greeks, and 
the periods in which they were built, is to be found in Stieglitz, Geschichte 
der Baukunst der Alten. Leipzig, 1792. 

t As e. g. the ki^xfi at Olympia, respectina; which Biittiger in his Geschich- 
te der Mahlerey, B. i. S. 296, etc. has given us a learned essay, as also in 
general respecting those places, to which the public resorted for conversn 
tion. 

i On those at Athens, consnlt Stieglitz in loc. cit. p. 220. 



336 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

probably erected at a distance in the rear of the 
temples ; though many of them were distinguished 
by excellent works of art. 

This line of division, carefully drawn between 
domestic and public architecture by the Greeks, who 
regarded only the latter as possessing the rank of 
one of the fine arts, gives a new proof of their correct 
views of things. In buildings destined for dwellings, 
necessity and the art are in constant opposition. The 
latter desires in its works to execute some grand idea 
independent of the common wants of life ; but a dwel- 
ling is intended to meet those very wants, and is in 
BO respect founded on an idea connected with beauty. 
The temples are dwellings also, but the dwellings of 
the gods ; and as these have no wants in their places 
of abode, the art finds here no obstacle to its inven- 
tions. 

The plastic art* and painting bore to each other, 
among the Greeks, the opposite relation to that which 
they have borne in modern times. The first was the 
most cultivated ; and though the latter attained the 
rank of an independent art, it never was able to 
gain the superiority. It is not for us here to explain 
the causes of this ; we need only mention one, which 
to us is the most interesting. The more public the 
arts are among any people, the more naturally will 
the plastic art surpass that of painting. The works 
of both may be public, and were so among the Greeks, 
but those of the former are far better suited for 
public monuments than those of the latter. The 
works of painting find their place only on walls ; those 

♦ The phrase plastic art is used, because there is no other which embraces 
at once the works of art formed of stone and of bronze. 



THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 337 

of the plastic art, existing entirely by themselves^ 
wherever there is room for them. 

The works of the plastic art, statues and busts, 
were, in the times of which we speak (and among the 
Greeks, with a few limitations, even in subsequent 
times), only public works, that is, designed to be set 
up, not in private dwellings, but in public places, 
temples, halls, market-places, gymnasia, and theatres. 
I know of no one instance of a statue that belonged 
to a private man ; and if there exists any example, 
it is an exception which confirms the general rule.^ 
It may be said, that it is only accidental that we know 
of no such instances. But if any taste of that kind 
had prevailed at Athens, we should find traces of it 
in the comedians and orators. If these are consulted 
in vain for such indications, we are justified in con- 
cluding that no such private tastes existed. 

Phidias and his successors, till the Macedonian 
age, did not therefore labour to supply with their works 
the houses and collections of individuals. This by no 
means implies, that they did not receive applications 
from private persons. If they had not, the incredi- 
ble multitude of statues, which we have already men- 
tioned, could never have been made.f This subject is 
so important, that we desire to treat of it more at 
large. 

*0r can the anecdote be cited, which Pausanias relates, p. i. 46, of the 
cunning of Phrvne to gain possession of the god of love made by her lover 
Praxiteles ? Even if it be true*, the fact is in our favour; for she consecrat- 
ed it immediately as a public work of art in Thespiae, Athen. p. 591 ; m 
which city alone it was from that time to be seen. Cic. in Ver. ii. iv. 2. 

fThe infinite wealth of Greece in treasures of this kind, has been so clearly 
exhibited in a late discovery of Jacobs, that it has now become easy to form 
a distinct idea of them. Jacobs, Uber den Reichthum Griechenlands an 
plastischen Kunstwerken unU die Ur?achen de<^selben. 

43 



338 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

The great masters were principally employed tot 
the cities. These, or the men who were at their head 
(as the example of Pericles informs us), bespoke 
works of art, or bought them ready made, to orna- 
ment the city and the public buildings. We have 
distinct evidence, that the great masterpieces of Phid- 
ias, Praxiteles, and Lysippus, owed their origin to 
this. Thus were produced the Jupiter at Olympia, 
the Minerva Polias at Athens, by the first ; the Venus 
at Cnidus, as well as at Cos, by the second ; the 
Colossus of Rhodes, by the third. Yet numerous as 
were the applications of cities, the immense multitude 
of statues could not be accounted for, unless the piety 
and the vanity of individuals had come to their assis- 
tance. 

The first assisted by the votive offerings ; of which 
all the celebrated temples were full. These were by 
no means always works of art, but quite as often mere 
costly presents. Yet the collections of statues and 
pictures which belonged to those temples, consisted, 
for the most part, of votive oiTerings.^ But these 
were as often the tribute of gratitude from whole 
cities, as from individuals.! 

The vanity of individuals contributed to the same 
end, by the custom of erecting statues, commonly of 
bronze, to the victors in the games. J When wc 

♦Not to mention Olympia and Delphi again, we refer to the temple of 
Juno in Samos, Strab. L. xiv. p. 438, of Bacchus at Athens, Pans. i. -0. The 
temple of Diana at Ephesus was so rich in works of art, that according to 
Plin. xxxvi. 14, a description of them would have filled several volume?. 

t The temples received such presents not only during the lifetime of the 
donors, but as legacies. A remarkable instance of this is found in the will 
of Conon, who left 5000 pieces of gold (ffTaTtj^a) for that purpose. Lys. Qr 
Gr. V. p. 039. 

t See the passage in Pliny, xxxiv.9. His runiark that a statue was erect- 
ed in honour of every victor al Olympia, seems hardly credible. Cf. Pan= 
vi, p. 452. 



THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 339 

remember the multitude of these games in Greece, the 
number of statues will become intelligible ; especially 
of those of bronze, of which in many instances more 
than one cast was made ; as the native cities of the 
victors would hardly fail in this manner to appropri- 
ate to themselves the fame of their citizens, which 
formed so much a subject of pride. 

Painting, from its very nature, seems to have been 
more designed for private use. Yet in the age of 
Pericles, when the greafmasters in this art appeared 
in Athens, it was hardly less publicly applied than 
the art of sculpture. It was in the public porticos and 
temples, that those masters, Polygnotus, Micon, and 
others, exhibited the productions of their genius.^" 
No trace is to be found of celebrated private pictures 
in those times.f 

Yet portrait painting seems peculiarly to belong 
to private life. This branch of the art was certainly 
cultivated among the Greeks ; but not till the Mace- 
donian age. The likenesses of celebrated men were 
placed in the pictures which commemorated their 
actions ; as that of Miltiades in the painting of the 
battle in the Pcecile, or pictured hall in Athens ; or 
the artists found a place for themselves or their mis- 

* See Bottiger. Ideen zur Archaeologie der Mahlerey. B. i. S. 274, etc. 

t It is true, Andocides reproaclied Alcibiades, in his oration against him, of 
iiaving shut up a painter, who was painting his house; Or. Gr. iv, p. 119. 
But this was not the way to obtain a fine specimen of the art. Allusion is 
there made to the painting of the whole house, not of an isolated work of 
art ; and we are not disposed to deny, that in the times of Alcibiades, it was 
usual to decorate the walls with paintings. On the contrary, this was then 
very common ; for the very painter Archagathus gives as his excuse, that he 
bad already contracted to work for several others. But these common paint- 
ings are not to be compared with those in the temples and porticos; which 
as Bottiger h^s proved, Ideen, &.c. S. 282, were painted, not on the walls, 
but on wood 



340 CHAPTEll FIFTEENTH. 

tresses in such public works.* But, properly speak- 
ing, portrait painting, as such, did not flourish till the 
times of Philip and Alexander ; and was first prac- 
tised in the school of Apelles.f When powerful 
princes arose, curiosity or flattery desired to possess 
their likeness ; the artists were most sure of receiv- 
ing compensation for such labours ; and private stat- 
ues as well as pictures began to grow common ; al- 
though in most cases something of ideal beauty was 
added to the resemblance.J 

We have ventured directly to assert, that the 
arts in their flourishing period belonged exclusively 
to public life ; and were not, according to the general 
opinion which seems to have been silently adopted, di- 
vided between that and private life. Beit remembered, 
this is to be understood only of works of art, in the 
proper sense of the expression ; that is, of those which 
had no other object but to be works of art ; of statues, 
therefore, and pictures ; not of all kinds of sculpture 
and painting. That the arts connected with private 
wants, were applied to objects of domestic life, to articles 
of household furniture, to candelabra, vases, tapestry, 
and garments, will be denied by no one, who is ac- 
quainted with antiquity. 

It was not till a LucuUus, a Verres, and others 
among the Romans, had gratified their taste as ama- 

♦Polygnofus, e. g. introduced the beautiful Elpinice, the daughter of 
Miltiades, as Laodice. PUit. iii. p. 178. 

\ This appears from the accounts in Plin. xxxv. xxxvi. 12, etc. 

+ A confirmation, perhaps a more correct statement of these remarks, is 
expected by every friend of the arts of antiquity in the continuation of Bot- 
tiger's Ideen zur Gcschichte der Mahlerey. That in this period busts of in- 
dividuals became for the same reasons so much more numerous, has been 
illustrated by the same scholar in his Andeutungen, S. 183, etc. 



i 



THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 341 

teurs, that the arts were introduced into private 
life ; and yet even in Rome an Agrippa could propose 
to restore to the public all the treasures of the arts, 
which lay buried in the villas. We should not there- 
fore be astonished, if under such circumstances the 
ancient destination of arts among the Greeks should 
have been changed, and they should have so far 
degenerated as to become the means of gratifying 
the luxury of individuals. And yet this never took 
place. This can be proved as well of the mother 
country, as of the richest of the colonies. 

Pausanias in the second century after the Chris- 
tian era, travelled through all Greece, and saw and 
described all the works of art which existed there. 
And yet I know of no one instance in all Pausanias 
of a work of art belonging to a private man ; much 
less of whole collections. Every thing was in his 
day, as before, public in the temples, porticos, and 
squares. If private persons had possessed works 
of art, who would have prevented his describing 
them? 

Verres plundered Sicily of its treasures in the 
arts, whenever he could find them ; and his accusers 
will hardly be suspected of having concealed any 
thing. But in this accusation, with one single excep- 
tion,^ none but public works of art are mentioned. 
What shall we infer from this, but that no considera- 
ble productions of the fine arts were possessed by 
private persons in Sicily ? 

* Namely, the four statues which he took from Heius. Cic. in Verrem ii 
iv. 2. Yet they stood in a chapel (sacrarium), and were therefore in a cer- 
tain measure public. The name of Heius seems, however, to betray that the 
family was not of Grecian origin. But what does one such exception, and 
io such an age, prove re?pccllng an earlier period .' 



342 CHAPTER FIFTEENTH. 

So deeply therefore was the idea fixed among the 
Greeks, that the works of the artists were public, 
that it could not be eradicated even by the profana- 
tions of the Romans, And this is the chief cause of 
their flourishing. They thus attained their destina- 
tion. The works of art belong, according to this, not 
to individuals, but to the cultivated part of mankind. 
They should be a common property. Even in our 
times, when individuals are permitted to possess them, 
censure is incurred if others are not also allowed to 
enjoy them. But even where this privilege is con- 
ceded, it is not a matter of indifference, whether an 
individual or the nation is the possessor. The res- 
pect shown to the arts by the nation in possessing 
their productions, confers a higher value on their 
labours. How much more honoured does the artist 
feel, how much more freely does he breathe, when 
he knows that he is exerting himself for a nation, 
which will esteem its glory increased by his works, 
instead of toiling for the money and the caprices of 
individuals ? 

Such was the condition of the arts in Greece, 
When emulation arose among the cities to be dis- 
tinguished by possessing works of art, a field was 
opened for a Phidias and Polygnotus, for a Praxiteles 
and Parrhasius. They were better rewarded by 
glory than by money ; some of them never worked 
for pay.* Need we then add any further remarks 

* Polygnotus painted the Pcecile for nothing; Zeuxis, in the last part of 
his life, would receive no pay for his pictores, but gave them away. Flin. 
xxxv. 36. Thus a partial answer is given to the question, how the cities 
could support the great expense for works of art. Besides, in Greece as in 
Italy, the works of the groat masters did not become dear till after their 
death. The little which wn know of their personal condition and circum- 
4tancos, represents them for the most part as men of fine feelings and good 



THE ARTS IN CONNEXION WITH THE STATE. 343 

to explain why tlie blossoms of the fine arts faded 
with liberty ? Philip and Alexander still saw a 
Lysippus and an Apelles ; biit with them ends the 
series of creative minds, such as no other nation has 
ever produced. 

But the taste of the nation for the arts and their 
productions, did not end with those artists. They 
had taken too good care to perpetuate that fondness. 
When the Grecians had lost almost every thing else, 
they were still proud of their works of art. This 
excited even in the Romans respect and admiration. 
^^ These works of art, these statues, these pictures/' 
says Cicero,* '* delight the Greeks beyond every 
thing. From their complaints you may learn^f that 
that is most bitter to them, which to us appears per- 
haps trivial and easy to be borne. Of all acts of 
oppression and injustice, which foreigners and allies 
in these times have been obliged to endure, nothing 
has been more hard for the Grecians to bear, than this 
plundering of their temples and cities !'' 

We have thus far endeavoured to consider Greece 
from all the points, in which she made herself glori- 
ous as a nation. Who is it, we may finally ask, that 
conferred upon her her immortality? Was it her 
generals and men of power alone ; or was it equally her 
sages, her poets, and her artists ? The voice of ages 
has decided; and posterity justly places the images 
of these heroes of peace by the side of those of the 
warriors and kings.J 

fellowship, who, like the divine Raphael and Correggio, in the moments sa- 
cred to mental exertion, raised themselves above human nature, but other- 
wise enjoyed life without troubling themselves much about money. Phidias 
for all his masterpieces did not receive a third part as much as Gorgias for 
his declamations. 

♦ Cicero in Verrem, ii. iv. 59. t Of the robberies of Verre?. 

i See Visconti. Inconographie anciennc Paris 1811 



344 CHAPTEU SIXTEENTH, 



CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 

The melancholy task of explaining the causes 
which led to the fall of Greece, has already been 
much facilitated by the preceding investigations. 
Most of them the reader will now be able to mention 
of himself ; we have only to illustrate them somewhat 
more at large, and arrange them in a manner to ad- 
mit of being distinctly comprehended at a single view. 

If the constitutions of the individual Grecian states 
were defective, the constitution of the whole Grecian 
system was still more so. Though geographically 
united, they cannot be said to have formed one polit- 
ical system. A lasting union was never established 
between the Grecian states ; and a transitory and 
very imperfect one was effected only in times of dan- 
ger, as in the Persian wars. 

But even this imperfect union was productive 
of important results. The league which was 
then established, produced the idea of the su- 
premacy of an individual state. It has already been 
shown, in what manner Athens managed to acquire 
this rank, and in what manner that city turned it to 
advantage ; but we have also shown, that a par- 
tial supremacy alone existed, embracing only the 
seaports and the islands, and therefore necessarily 
resting for its support on the dominion of the seas 
on each side of Greece, and consequently on a 
navy. 



CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 345 

This was a result of the political relations and the 
nature of the league. But the consciousness of supe- 
riority excited those who were possessed of it to 
abuse it; and the allies began to be oppressed. 
Athens, having once established its greatness on this 
supremacy, would not renounce it when the ancient 
motives had ceased to operate after the peace with 
the Persians. Individual states attempted to reclaim 
by force the independence, which was not voluntari- 
ly conceded to them. This led to wars with them ; 
and hence the dominion of the sea was followed by 
all the other evils, of which even Isocrates complains.* 

The chief reason of this internal division did not 
lie merely in changing political relations, but more 
deeply in the difference of the tribes. There was a 
chasm between the Dorian and Ionian, which never 
could be filled up ; a voluntary union of the two 
for any length of time was impossible. Several 
causes may be mentioned, as having contributed to 
render this division incurable. The tribes were di- 
vided geographically. In the mother country, the 
Dorian had the ascendency in the Peloponnesus, the 
Ionian in Attica, Eubcea, and many of the islands. 
Their dialects were different; a few words were 
sufficient to show to which tribe a man belonged. 
The difference in manners was hardly less considera- 
ble, especially with relation to the female sex, which 
among the Dorians participated in public life ; 
while amongst the lonians it was limited to the 
women's apartments within the houses. And the 
common people were very much influenced by the 

*Isocrat. de Pace, Op. p. 176 

44 



346 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

circumstance, that the festivals celebrated by the 
two, were not the same. 

But the division was made politically incurable 
by the circumstance, that Sparta was, or at least 
desired to be, considered the head of the whole Doric 
tribe. This state, both in its public and private 
constitution, was in almost every respect the opposite 
of Athens. As the laws of Lycurgus alone were 
valid in it, the other Dorian cities did by no means 
resemble it ; but as it was ambitious of being their 
head, its influence decided, at least in the mother 
country. ' But that influence was often extended to 
the colonies ; and though the Persian authority may 
have repressed the hatred of the tribes in Asia Minor, 
it continued with the greatest acrimony in Sicily. 
In the war of the Syracusans against the Leontini, 
the Dorian cities were on the side of the former ; the 
Ionian on that of the latter ; and the cities of Lower 
Italy in their choice of sides were influenced by the 
same circumstance.^ 

This hatred, preserved and inflamed by the ambi-r 
tion, common to both, of obtaining the supremacy over 
Greece, was finally followed by that great civil war, 
which we are accustomed to call the Peloponnesian. 
Of nearly equal duration, it was to Greece what the 
thirty years' war was to Germany ;t without having 
been terminated by a similar peace. As it was a 
revolutionary war in the true sense of the expression, 
it had all the consequences attendant on such a war. 
The spirit of faction was enabled to strike such deep 

♦Tluicyd. iii. 8fi. 

t It lusted fioni the year 431 till the year 404, when it was terminated by 
the taking of Athens. 



CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 347 

root, that it never more could be eradicated ; and 
the abuse which Sparta made of her forced supremacy, 
was fitted to supply it with continual nourishment. 
Who has described this with more truth or accuracy 
thanThucydides? ^' By this war/' says he,* ^^ all 
Hellas was set in motion ; for on all sides dissensions 
prevailed between the popular party and the higher 
order. The former desired to invite the Athenians ; 
the latter the Lacedemonians. The cities were shak- 
en by sedition ; and where this broke out at a less 
early period, the attempt was made to commit greater 
excesses than any which had elsewhere taken place. 
Even the significations of words were changed. Mad 
rashness w^as called disinterested courage ; prudent 
delay was styled timidity. Whoever was violent, 
was held worthy of confidence ; whoever opposed him, 
was suspected. The crafty was called intelligent ; 
the more crafty, still more intelligent. In short, 
praise was given to him who anticipated another in 
injustice ; and to him who encouraged to crime one 
who had never thought of it.'' 

From the words of the historian, the eff'ect of these 
revolutions on morals is apparent ; and yet no states 
rested so much on morals as the Grecian. For were 
they not communities which governed themselves? Did 
not the laws enter most deeply into private life? and 
was not anarchy a necessary consequence of the moral 
corruption? This was soon felt in Athens. Through- 
out the whole of Aristophanes, we see the contrast 
between the better times that were gone by. and the 
new, in all parts of public and domestic life ; in 

♦Thucyd. iii. 82. We have selected only a few remarks from a pa«3a^*> 
written for all succeeding centurie«. 



348 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

poetry, in eloquence, in education, in the courts of 
justice, &c. ; and finally in a celebrated dialogue, the 
ancient and the modern customs are introduced, disput- 
ing !ipon the stage.* And who can read the orators 
without being astonished at the incredible corruption 
of morals ? 

This leads us to a kindred topic, the profanation 
of the popular religion. The careful student of the 
history of the Grecian nation will observe this 
profanation increase, as he approaches the age of 
Philip ; and though other causes may have had 
some influence, we can only thus explain the origin 
of a religious war like the Phocian. The causes 
which produced the decay of the popular religion, 
may for the most part be found in a former chap- 
ter. It would be useless to attempt to deny, that 
the speculations of the philosophers had a great share 
in it ; although the better part of them were strenu- 
ous to prevent such a result. Aristophanes was 
certainly unjust in attributing such designs to Socra- 
tes, but he was right in attributing it to philosophy 
in general. The question now arises : On which 
side lies the blame? On that of philosophy, or of 
the popular religion ? It is not difficult to answer this 
question after what we have already remarkedf of 
the latter. A nation with a religion like that of the 
Greeks, must either refrain from philosophical inqui- 
ries, or learn from philosophy that its religion is 
unfounded. This result cannot be urged against the 
philosophers as a crime, but only a want of pru- 
dence, of which they were guilty in promulgating 

* Tlic \eyoi lixaiof and ei^sKes in the Clouds. 
t See the third chapter. 



CAUSES OF THE FALL OF GREECE. 349 

their positionr The care taken by the best of 
them in this respect, has already been mentioned ; 
and that the state was not indifferent to the practice 
of the rest, is proved by the punishments which were 
inflicted on many of them. But though the systems 
of the philosophers were restricted to the schools, a 
multitude of philosophic views were extended, which 
to a certain degree were adopted by the common 
people. In Athens, the comedians contributed to 
this end ; for whether with or without design, they 
extended the doctrines which they ridiculed. 

The most melancholy proof of the decay of reli- 
gious feeling, is found in the Phocian war and the 
manner in which that war was conducted. In the 
time of Thucydides, Delphi and its oracle were still 
revered ;* although the Spartans began even then 
to doubt its claims to confidence. f When all 
the former relations of the states were dissolved by 
the Peloponnesian war and its consequences, those 
toward the gods were also destroyed ; and the crimes 
committed against them, brouglit on their own punish- 
ment in a new civil war and the downfall of liberty. 
The treasures stolen from Delphi, with which the 
war was carried on, suddenly increased the mass of 
species current in Greece to an unheard of degree ; 
but increased in an equal degree luxury and the 
wants of life.J And if any portion of the ancient 
spirit remained, it was destroyed by the custom of 
employing mercenary soldiers, a custom, which be- 
came every day more common, and gave a deadly chill 
to valour and patriotism. 

♦Thucyd. v. 32. fThucyd. v. 16. 

t See a leading passage on this topic, in Athen. iv. p. 231. 



350 CHAPTER SIXTEENTH. 

Thus the evils of which the superior policy of a 
neighbour knew how to take advantage, were the 
result of defects in the political constitution ; in that 
very constitution, but for which those glorious fruits, 
which were borne by the tree of Grecian liberty, 
never could have ripened. But amidst all the disor- 
der, and all the losses, not every thing perished. 
The national spirit, though it could hardly have been 
expected, still remained, and with it the hope of bet- 
ter times. Amidst all their wars with one another, 
the Greeks never ceased to consider themselves as one 
nation. The idea of one day assuming that character 
animated the best of them. It is an idea which is 
expressed in almost every one of the writings of the 
pure Isocrates ;* and which he could not survive, 
when after the battle of Chseronea, the spirit of the 
eloquent old man voluntarily escaped from its earthly 
veil, beneath which it had passed a hundred years. 
Yet the echo of his wishes, his prayers, and his 
instructions did not die away. Still the last of the 
Greeks had not yet appeared ; and the times were to 
come, when, in the AchaBan league, the splendid day 
of the greatness of Hellas was to be followed by a still 
more splendid evening. So certain is it, that a nation 
is never deserted by destiny, so long as it does not 
desert itself. 

♦ See especially Panathen. Op. 235. 



THE END. 



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